-and
that he should come to Mannering whenever he was asked and military
duty allowed, now that the Squire's embargo was at least partially
removed?
He confessed to himself that he was glad to come, that Pamela
attracted him. At the same time there was in him a stern sense that
the time was no time for love-making. The German hosts were
gathering; the vast breakdown in Russia was freeing more and more of
them for the Western assault. He himself was for the moment doing
some important intelligence work, in close contact with the High
Command. No one outside a very small circle knew better than he what
lay in front of England--the fierce death-struggle over a thousand
miles of front. And were men and women to be kissing and marrying
while these storm-clouds of war--this rain of blood--were gathering
overhead?
Involuntarily he moved further from Pamela. His fine face with the
rather high cheek-bones, strong mouth, and lined brow, seemed to put
softness away. He approached Elizabeth.
'What is the Squire doing about his wood, Miss Bremerton? The
Government's desperately in want of ash!'
He spoke almost as one official might speak to another--comrade to
comrade. What he had heard about her doings from his father had
filled his soldier's mind with an eager admiration for her. That was
how women should bear themselves in this war--as the practical
helpers of men.
He fell into the chair beside her, and Elizabeth was soon deep in
conversation with him, a conversation that any one might overhear
who would. It turned partly on the armies abroad--partly on the
effort at home. There was warmth--even passion--in it, studiously
restrained. But it was the passion of two patriots, conscious
through every pulse of their country's strait.
The others listened. Pamela became silent and pale. All the old
jealousy and misery of the autumn were alive in her once more. She
had looked forward for weeks to this meeting with Arthur Chicksands.
And for the first part of his visit she had been happy--before
Elizabeth came on the scene. Why should Elizabeth have all the
homage and the attention? She, too, was doing her best! She was
drudging every day as a V.A.D., washing crockery and scrubbing
floors; and this was the first afternoon off she had had for weeks.
Her limbs were dog-tired. But Arthur Chicksands never talked to
_her_--Pamela--in this tone of freedom and equality--with the whole
and not the half of his mind. 'I could hold m
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