e past months, from her final escape--a
necessary play-acting?

He couldn't manage a word with her alone before dinner. The party
wandered through grass-floored forest paths whose shy peace fled from
the approach of uniforms and the heavy tramp of army boots. He resented
her flood of public questions about his work, his prospects, his mental
attitude toward the whole business. Her voice was too kind, her manner
too sweet, with just the proper touch of sadness. She wasn't going to
spare him anything of the soldier's due. Since he was being fattened,
presumably for the butcher, she would turn his thoughts from the
knife----

He longed for the riding crop in her fingers; he would have preferred
its blows.

If he got her alone he would put a stop to such intolerable abuse, but
the chance escaped him until long after dinner, when the moon swung high
above the lake, when the men in uniform and their women were paired in
the ballroom, or on the terrace and balconies. He asked her to dance at
last and she made no difficulty, giving him that unreal and provoking
smile.

"You dance well," she said when the music stopped.

They were near a door. He suggested that they go outside.

"While I tell you that if you offer me any more of that gruel I'll
publicly accuse you of treason."

She looked at him puzzled, hesitating.

"What do you mean?"

"When it comes to being killed," he answered, "I prefer the Huns to
empty kindness. It's rather more useful for the country, too. Please
come out."

She shook her head. Her eyes were a little uncertain.

"Yes, you will," he said. "You've let yourself in for it. I'm the victim
of one of your war charities. Let me tell you that sort of thing leads
from the dance floor to less public places. After all, the balcony isn't
very secluded. If you called for help it would come promiscuously,
immediately."

She laughed. She tried to edge toward her mother. He stopped her.

"Be consistent. Don't refuse a dying man," he sneered.

"Dying man!" she echoed.

"You've impressed me with it all evening. For the first time in your
life you've tried to treat me like a human being, and you've succeeded
in making me feel a perfect fool. Where's the pamphlet you've been
reciting from? I'll guarantee it says the next move is to go to the
balcony and be very nice and a little sentimental to the poor devil."

Her head went up. She walked out at his side. He arranged chairs close
together at the raili