ls everyone flocked to Upton, sitting
about the hostess houses all day and evening for an occasional chat with
their hurried men. Then they let such moments slip by because of a
feeling of strangeness, of dumb despair.

The Alstons and the Baillys were there, and so, of course, was Sylvia,
with her mother, more minutely guarded than she had ever been. His few
glimpses of her at luncheon or supper at Officers' House increased the
evil humour into which Dalrymple had thrown him. Consequently he looked
at her, impressing upon his morose mind each detail of her beauty that
he knew very well he might never study again. The old depression of
complete failure held him. She was going to let him go without a word.
Even this exceptional crisis was without effect upon her intolerant
memory. He would leave her behind to complete a destiny which he,
perhaps, after all, had affected only a very little.

With the whispered word that there would be no more meetings at
Officers' House, that before dawn the regiment would have slipped from
Upton, George turned to his packing with the emotions of a violently
constricted animal. He wouldn't even see her again. When Lambert came to
confer with him about some final dispositions he watched him like such
an animal, but Lambert let him see that he, too, was at a loss. He had
send word by an orderly that he couldn't get to Officers' House that
evening.

"I couldn't make it any plainer. If they've any sense they'll know and
hunt me up."

They were wise, and a little of George's strain relaxed, for they found
Lambert in his quarters, and they made it clear that they had come to
say good-bye to George, too. After many halting efforts they gave up
trying to express themselves.

"The Spartans were better at this sort of thing," Bailly said at the
last as he clasped George's hand.

"Every Hun I kill or capture, sir, I'll think of as your Hun."

Without words, without tears, Mrs. Bailly kissed his lips. George tried
to laugh.

Betty wouldn't say good-bye, wouldn't even shake hands.

"I shan't think of killing," she said. "Just take care of yourselves,
and come back."

George stared at her, alarmed. He had never seen her so white. Lambert
followed her from the room. The Baillys went out after them. Why did
Mrs. Planter linger? There she stood near the door, looking at George
without the slightest betrayal of feeling. He had an impression she was
going to say:

"We've really quite enjoyed