th the fragrance of pines and because to them the
present seemed so perfect they refused to borrow fears from the future.

Sometimes the man would see a vagrant shadow of foreboding steal into
the mismated eyes, but when Mary became aware of its recognition in his
own, it was always swiftly banished for one of serene happiness and
confidence.

"Dearest," he told her at such a moment--it was the moment of
candle-lighting, when dusk brings shadows of fear, "why 'heed the rumble
of the distant drum'? We love each other, and when my fight is over no
one shall part us."

And she in the circle of his arms looked up and laughed and they both
banished from their hearts all thought of Hamilton Burton.

At her mother's house before she came away, Mary had talked to Paul,
and had won his weak promise that he would permit his brother to take no
dishonorable step toward freeing Loraine Haswell. So she had not kept
her threat of warning the husband, and after she had returned to town,
her mother fell ill, and in the first call of loyalty there Mary
remained with her. About this time she read that Loraine had gone to
Europe, and had gone alone.

Days had passed into weeks and Hamilton Burton had struck no blow. Mary
had begun to believe that he meant to strike none, and her lover
encouraged that view, but he himself knew that it was a phantom hope. He
knew that the arch master of financial strategy was building and
strengthening every sinew of war, and that the crushing impact of his
attack would be only the more terrific because he had curbed his
impatience and held his hand until the exact fraction of the
psychological moment.

CHAPTER XX

Len Haswell carried a stricken face about the clubs where once he had
been the center of jovial gatherings, when he appeared there--which was
not often. Old associates who read the signs avoided him out of
kindliness save those who like Thayre could be with him without
reminding him of his hurt. Thayre, with all his seeming of bluff and
noisy gaiety, had an underlying tenderness of heart and delicacy of
perception which made him a friend for troubled hours. He knew how to
remain silent as well as how to be loquacious and he could radiate an
unspoken sympathy.

One evening the Englishman chanced on Haswell in the otherwise deserted
reading-room of the National Union Club. Because it was a club chiefly
dedicated to the elder generation Thayre came infrequently and it
surprised him