ten, Sweetness. You are what you are to me--my dear comrade, my
faithful partner sharing our pretty partnership in art; and, more than
these, Dulcie, you are my friend.... Never doubt that. Never forget
it. Nothing can alter it--nothing you learn about your origin can
exalt that friendship.... Nothing lessen it. Do you understand?
_Nothing_ can _lessen_ it, save only if you prove untrue to what you
are--your real self."

She had rested her cheek against his arm while he was speaking. It lay
there now, pressed closer.

"As for Murtagh Skeel," he said, "he is a charming, cultivated,
fascinating man. But if he attempts to carry out his agitator's
schemes and his revolutionary propaganda in this country, he is headed
for most serious trouble."

"Why does he?"

"Don't ask me why men of his education and character do such things.
They do; that's all I know. Sir Roger Casement is another man not
unlike Skeel. There are many, hot-hearted, generous, brave,
irrational. There is no use blaming them--no justice in it, either.
The history of British rule in Ireland is a matter of record.

"But, Dulcie, he who strikes at England to-day strikes at civilisation,
at liberty, at God! This is no time to settle old grievances. And to
attempt to do it by violence, by propaganda--to attempt a reckoning of
ancient wrongs in any way, to-day, is a crime--the crime of treachery
against Christ's teachings--of treason against Lord Christ Himself!"

After a long interval:

"You are going to this war quite soon. Mr. Westmore said so."

"I am going--with my country or without it."

"When?"

"When I finally lose patience and self-respect.... I don't know
exactly when, but it will be pretty soon."

"Could I go with you?"

"Do you wish to?"

She pressed her cheek against his arm in silence.

He said:

"That has troubled me a lot, Dulcie. Of course you could stay here; I
can arrange--I had come to a conclusion in regard to financial
matters----"

"I can't," she whispered.

"Can't what?"

"Stay here--take anything from you--accept without service in
return."

"What would you do?"

"I wouldn't care--if you--leave me here alone."

"But, Dulcie----"

"I know. You said it this evening. There will come a time when you
would not find it convenient to have me--around----"

"Dear, it's only because a man and a woman in this world cannot
continue anything of enduring intimacy without business as an excuse.
And even then, the pleas