er--partly war
hysteria, and partly the fact that women can't stand independence, I
suppose. Marian's a splendid type of the female war-shirker. You know
she's married; yet, because she lets you maul her'----

'I say, Elise!'

'----and she murmurs pathetically that her husband in France neglects
her--at least, that's what she tells you. When she was dressing to-night
Marian said that she and her husband absolutely trusted each other.'

'By Jove! You don't mean that?'

'She also said that all men, including you, were a scream. Probably she
considers you a perfect shriek.'

Trembling with indignation, Maynard suddenly collapsed like a punctured
balloon and relapsed dejectedly into his recumbent attitude. 'What an
ass I have been!' he lamented sorrowfully. 'What a sublime ass! And
Marian--the little devil!'

'Rubbish!'

'Eh? I suppose you think I am an idiot for---- Well, perhaps you're
right.'

For a couple of minutes nothing was said, and the melancholy lover, with
his chin resting on his chest, ruminated over his unhappy affair.

'Hang it all!' he said at last, hesitatingly, 'when a chap gets leave
from the front he's--he's sort of woman-hungry. You don't know what it
feels like, after getting away from all that mud and corruption, to hear
a girl's voice--one of our own. It goes to the head like bubbly. It's
a--a dream come true. There's just the two things in your life--eight or
nine months in the trenches; then a fortnight with the company of women
again. It's awfully soppy to talk like this'----

'No, it isn't, Horace. It's the biggest compliment ever paid our women.
I only wish we could try to be what you boys picture us. That's what
makes me feel like drowning Marian every few days. Horace, I'm proud of
you.'

She patted his hand which was grasping the arm of the chair, and he
blushed a hearty red.

'Elise!' He sat bolt-upright. 'By gad! I never knew it until this
minute. _You_ are the woman I ought to marry. You are far too good and
clever and all that; but, by Jove! I could do something in the world if I
had you to work for. Don't stop me, Elise. I am serious. I should have
known all along'----

'Horace, Horace!' Hardly knowing whether to laugh or to cry, Elise put
her hand over his mouth and checked the amorous torrent. 'You're a
perfect dear,' she said, 'and I'm ever so grateful'----

'But'----

'But you mustn't be silly. This is only the reaction from Marian.'