rmined marriage and a new and beautiful life.

"What a delightful room," said Mrs. Harley. "It looks so comfortable
for a drawing-room that it must have been furnished by a man."

"We'll have a house in town by October, around here, and I'll bet it
won't be uncomfortable when you've finished with it."

The raucous shouts of men crying an "extra" took Harley quickly to the
open window. He watched one scare-monger edge his way up one side of
the street and another, whose voice was like the jagged edge of a rusty
saw, bandy leg his way up the other side. "Sounds like big sea battle,"
he said, after listening carefully. "Six German warships sunk, five
British. Horrible loss of life. But I may be wrong. These men do their
best not to be quite understood. Only six German ships! I wish the
whole fleet of those dirty dogs could be sunk to the bottom."

There was nothing neutral or blind-eyed about George Harley. He had
followed all the moves that had forced the war upon the nations whose
spineless and inefficient governments had so long been playing the
policy of the ostrich. He had nothing but detestation for the vile and
ruthless methods of the German war party and nation and nothing but
contempt for the allied politicians who had made such methods possible.
He had followed the course of the war with pain, anguish and bated
breath, thrilling at the supreme bravery of the Belgians and the
French, and the First Hundred Thousand, thanking God for the miracle
that saved Paris from desecration, and paying honest tribute to the
giant effort of the British to wipe out the stain of a scandalous and
criminal unpreparedness. He had squirmed with humiliation at the
attempts of the little, dreadful clever people of his own
country,--professors, parsons, pacifists and pro-Germans,--to prove
that it was the duty of the United States to stand aloof and unmoved in
the face of a menace which affected herself in no less a degree than it
affected the nations then fighting for their lives, and had watched
with increasing alarm the fatuous complacency of Congress which
continued to deceive itself into believing that a great stretch of mere
water rendered the country immune from taking its honest part in its
own war. "Oh, my God," he had said in his heart, as all clear-sighted
Americans had been saying, "has commercialism eaten into our very
vitals? Has the good red blood of the early pioneers turned to water?
Are we without the nerve any longe