panic-stricken city, and at the
station struggling through a wild and half crazed multitude of men and
women and children, they boarded a train and went rushing westward right
along the edge of the storm. To the north the Germans were so close that
Laura was sure she could hear the big guns. The train kept stopping to take
on troops. At dawn some twenty wounded men came crowding into their very
car, bloody and dirty, pale and worn, but gaily smiling at the pain, and
saying, "Ca n'fait rien, madame." Later Harold opened his flask for some
splendid Breton soldier boys just going into action. And they stood up with
flashing eyes and shouted out the Marseillaise, while Laura shivered and
thrilled with delight.

"I nearly kissed them all!" she cried.

Roger greatly enjoyed the evening. He had heard so much of the horrors of
war. Here was something different, something bright and vibrant with youth
and adventure! Here at last was the thrill of war, the part he had always
read about!

He glanced now and then at Deborah and was annoyed by what he saw. For
although she said nothing and forced a smile, he could easily tell by the
set of her lips that Deborah thoroughly disapproved. All right, that was
her way, he thought. But this was Laura's way, shedding the gloom and the
tragic side as a duck will shed water off its back, a duck with bright new
plumage fresh from the shops of the Rue de la Paix and taking some pleasure
out of life! What an ardent gleaming beauty she was, he thought as he
watched this daughter of his. And underneath his enjoyment, too, though
Roger would not have admitted it, was a sense of relief in the news that at
least one man in the family was growing rich instead of poor. Already Hal
and his partner--a fascinating creature according to Laura's
description--were fast equipping shrapnel mills. Plainly they expected a
tremendous rush of business. And no matter how you felt about war, the word
"profits" at least had a pleasant sound.

"How has the war hit you, sir?" Harold asked his father-in-law.

"Oh, so-so, I'll get on, my boy," was Roger's quiet answer. For Harold was
not quite the kind he would ever like to ask for aid. Still, if the worst
came to the worst, he would have someone to turn to.

* * * * *

Long after they had left the house, he kept thinking over all they had
said. What an amazing time they had had, the two young scalawags.

Deborah was still in the ro