dry. She sipped her wine quickly to moisten them,
and set the glass down with a hand that was not quite steady. Bull saw
the signs of distress.

"Oh, yes, it's war all right," he said quietly. "Maybe it's ruthless,
implacable. But it's part of the game. Don't worry a thing. You're in
the enemy lines. You've got your duty. So far you've done your duty; and
you've made good, and will get the reward you need. Well, go right on
doing that duty, and there isn't a just creature on God's earth that'll
have right to blame you. I won't blame you. Go right on; and when it's
all through, I'll be ready to sit here with you again, and talk and
laugh over it, as we've been doing--"

He broke off. A frightened look had leapt into Nancy's eyes. She was no
longer attending to him. She was watching the tall, squarely military
figure of a man moving down one of the aisles between the softly lit
tables. The man's dark eyes were searching over the room, as he followed
the head waiter conducting him to the table that had been reserved for
him. Bull turned and followed the direction of the girl's gaze. And as
he did so he encountered the cold, unsmiling glance of the other man's
eyes. It was only for an instant. Then he turned back to the girl.

"Friend Peterman," he said.

Nancy made a pretence of eating.

"Yes," she said, without raising her eyes.

Nancy's emotion was painfully obvious. Bull realised it. She was afraid.
Why? A swift thought flashed through the man's mind, to be followed by a
feeling such as he had never known before. Hitherto Elas Peterman had
represented only a sufficiently worthy adversary who must be encountered
and defeated. Now, all in a moment, that was changed into something
fiercer, more furiously human and abiding.

"Does it matter?" he asked very quietly.

Nancy looked up from her plate. There was a flicker of a smile in the
eyes that a moment before had expressed only apprehension. She shook her
head.

"I don't know--yet," she said. Her smile deepened. "You see, I refused
to dine with him here to-night. I excused myself on a plea of weariness.
I really did want rest. But--well, I didn't want to dine with him,
anyway. He's seen me--with you."

"Do you often dine with him?"

The man had no smile in response, and his question came swiftly.

"I've never dined with him."

Bull sat back. His eyes were smiling.

"Well, I guess the answer's easy. You're here fighting for the
Skandinavia. And I'd say yo