them both, if they earned it, and they
could touch hands for a moment.

But--gone!

"You are certain she left no address?"

"Quite certain. She has stored her furniture, I believe."

There was a sense of hurt, then, too. She had made this decision without
telling him. It seemed incredible. A dozen decisions a day he made, and
when they were vital there was always in his mind the question as to
whether she would approve or not. He could not go to her with them, but
mentally he was always consulting with her, earning her approbation. And
she had gone without a word.

"Do you think she has gone to France?" He knew his voice sounded stiff
and constrained.

"I hope not. She was being so useful here. Of course, the draft
law--amazing thing, the draft law! Never thought we'd come to it. But it
threw her out, in a way, of course."

"What has the draft law to do with Mrs. Valentine?"

"Why, you know what she was doing, don't you?"

"I haven't seen her recently."

The rector half-stopped.

"Well!" he said. "Let me tell you, Clayton, that that girl has been
recruiting men, night after night and day after day. She's done wonders.
Standing in a wagon, mind you, in the slums, or anywhere; I heard
her one night. By George, I went home and tore up a sermon I had been
working on for days."

Why hadn't he known? Why hadn't he realized that that was exactly the
sort of thing she would do? There was bitterness in his heart, too.
He might easily have stood unseen in the crowd, and have watched and
listened and been proud of her. Then, these last weeks, when he had been
working, or dining out, or sitting dreary and bored in a theater, she
had been out in the streets. Ah, she lived, did Audrey. Others worked
and played, but she lived. Audrey! Audrey!

"--in the rain," the rector was saying. "But she didn't mind it. I
remember her saying to the crowd, 'It's raining over here, and maybe
it's raining on the fellows in the trenches. But I tell you, I'd rather
be over there, up to my waist in mud and water, than scurrying for a
doorway here.' They had started to run out of the shower, but at that
they grinned and stopped. She was wonderful, Clayton."

In the rain! And after it was over she would go home, in some crowded
bus or car, to her lonely rooms, while he rolled about the city in a
limousine! It was cruel of her not to have told him, not to have allowed
him at least to see that she was warm and dry.

"I've been very busy