initiate was
tested in order that he might learn the strength of his wisdom, so now a
test was offered to the wielder of the sword of truth. Paul did not
immediately seek to re-establish control of this wayward spirit, but
talked awhile lightly and sympathetically of her life and its trials.
Presently: "I suppose you are sometimes hard up?" he said.

"Sometimes!"

"But I can see that you would resent an offer of help."

"I should. Cut it out."

"I have no intention of pressing the point. But have you no ambition to
lead any different life?"

"My life's my own. I'll do what I like with it. I'd have ended it long
ago, but I hadn't got the pluck. Now you know."

"Yes," replied Paul--"now I know. Come and sit down here beside me."

"I won't."

"You will. Come and sit down here."

Kitty Chester met the fixed gaze of his eyes and was lost. With the
ghost of a swagger in her gait she crossed to the red plush sofa upon
which Paul was seated and lounged upon the end of it, one foot swinging
in the air. She had a trick of rubbing the second finger of her left
hand as if twisting a ring, and Paul watched her as she repeated the
gesture. He rested his hand upon hers.

"Did you love your husband?" he asked.

Kitty Chester stood up slowly. Her right hand, which held the lighted
cigarette, went automatically to her breast. She wore a thin gold chain
about her neck. She was staring at Paul haggardly.

"You did love him," he continued. "Is he dead?"

Paul's solicitude, so obviously real, so wonderfully disinterested and
so wholly free from cant, already had kindled something in the girl's
heart which she had believed to be lifeless, and for ever cold. Now, his
swift intuition and the grave sympathy in his beautiful voice imposed
too great a test upon the weakened self-control of poor Kitty. Without
even a warning quiver of the lips she burst into passionate sobs.
Dropping weakly down upon the sofa she cried until her whole body shook
convulsively. Paul watched her in silence for some time, and then put
his arm about her bowed shoulders.

"Tell me," he said. "I understand." And punctuated by that bitter
weeping the story was told. Kitty had been in the service of a county
family and had married a young tradesman of excellent prospects. Two
short years of married life and then the War. Her husband was ordered
to France. One year of that ceaseless waiting, hoping, fearing, which
war imposes upon women, and then an officia