e last night.'

Clare got out of bed, stumbled to the washstand, splashed her burning
head and face with cold water, then lay shivering.

It may or may not be true that the power to love is to be found in the
human being in inverse ratio to the power to think. Probably it is not;
these generalisations seldom are. Anyhow, Clare, like many others, could
not understand, but loved.

6

Lady Pinkerton said to her lord next day, 'How much longer will the peace
take being made, Percy?'

'My dear, I can't tell you. Even I don't know everything. There are many
little difficulties, which have to be smoothed down. Allies stand in a
curious and not altogether easy relation to one another.'

'Italy, of course....'

'And not only Italy, dearest.'

'Of course, China is being very tiresome.'

'Ah, if it were only China!'

Lady Pinkerton sighed.

'Well, it is all very sad. I do hope, Percy, that after this war we
English will never again forget that we hate _all_ foreigners.'

'I hope not, my dear. I am afraid before the war I was
largely responsible for encouraging these fraternisations and
discriminations. A mistake, no doubt. But one which did credit to our
hearts. One must always remember about a great people like ourselves
that the heart leads.'

'Thank God for that,' said Leila Yorke, illogically. Then Lady Pinkerton
added, 'But this peace takes too long.... I suppose a lasting and
righteous peace must ... Shall you have to be running to and fro like
this till it's signed, dear?'

'To and fro, yes. I must keep an office going here.'

'Jane is enjoying it,' said Lady Pinkerton. 'She sees a lot of Oliver
Hobart, I suppose, doesn't she?'

'He's in and out, of course. He and the child get on better than
they used to.'

'There is no doubt about that,' said Lady Pinkerton. 'If you don't know
it, Percy, I had better tell you. Men never see these things. He is
falling in love with her.'

Lord Pinkerton fidgeted about the room.

'Rilly. Rilly. Very amusing. You used to think it was Clare, dearest.'

He cocked his head at her accusingly, convicting her of being a woman
of fancies.

'Oh, you dear novelists!' he said, and shook a finger at her.

'Nonsense, Percy. It is perfectly obvious. He used to be attracted by
Clare, and now he is attracted by Jane. Very strange: such different
types. But life _is_ strange, and particularly love. Oh, I don't say it's
love yet, but it's a strong attraction, and may easily le