e absorbed in a magazine. He took from the mess of papers and
letters that lived in his inside coat pocket a war-map he had clipped
from a newspaper, and drew tactical lines on it. From his room he
brought a small book he had bought that day. He studied it intently.
Ruth managed to see that the title of the book was _Aeroplanes and
Air-Scouting in the European Armies_.

She sprang up, cried: "Hawk! Why are you reading that?"

"Why shouldn't I read it?"

"You don't mean to---- You----"

"Oh no, I don't suppose I'd have the nerve to go and enlist now.
You've already pointed out to me that I've been getting cold feet."

"But why do you shut me out? Why do you?"

"Oh, good Lord! have we got to go all over that again? We've gone over
it and over it and over it till I'm sick of telling you it isn't
true."

"I'm very sorry, Hawk. Thank you for making it clear to me that I'm a
typical silly wife."

"And thank you for showing me I'm a clumsy brute. You've done it quite
often now. Of course it doesn't mean anything that I've given up
aviation."

"Oh, don't be melodramatic. Or if you must be, don't fail to tell me
that I've ruined your life."

"Very well. I won't say anything, then, Ruth."

"Don't look at me like that, Hawk. So hard. Studying me.... Can't you
understand---- Haven't you any perception? Can't you understand how
hard it is for me to come to you like this, after last night, and
try----"

"Very nice of you," he said, grimly.

With one cry of "Oh!" she ran into her bedroom.

He could hear her sobbing; he could feel her agony dragging him to
her. But no woman's arms should drug his anger, this time, to let it
ache again. For once he definitely did not want to go to her. So
futile to make up and quarrel, make up and quarrel. He was impatient
that her distant sobs expressed so clearly a wordless demand that he
come to her and make peace. "Hell!" he crawked; jerked his top-coat
from its nail, and left the flat--eleven o'clock of a chilly November
evening.

CHAPTER XLII

Dizzy with all the problems of life, he did not notice where he went.
He walked blocks; took a trolley-car; got off to buy a strong cigar;
took the next trolley that came along; was carried across the
Fifty-ninth Street bridge to Long Island. At the eighth or tenth stop
he hurried out of the car just as it was starting again. He wondered
why he had been such a fool as to leave it in a dark street of
flat-faced wooden houses wit