of activity all about him. In the midst of it he heard
a husky, very individual voice, he saw a pair of wide-open distressed
eyes looking directly at him. And an odd conviction came to him that
life would bring Mrs. Clarke and him together again. Then he would come
back from South Africa? He had no premonition about that. What he felt
as he wrote his letter was simply that somehow, somewhere, Mrs. Clarke
and he would get to know each other better than they knew each other
now. Kismet! In the vast Turkish cemeteries there were moldering bodies
innumerable. Why did he think of them whenever he thought of Mrs.
Clarke? No doubt because she lived in Constantinople, because much of
her life was passed in the shadow of the towering cypresses. He had
thought of her as a cypress. Did she keep watch over bodies of the dead?

A bugle rang out. He put his letter into the envelope and hastily
scribbled the address. Mrs. Clarke was again at Claridge's.

* * * * *

Every man who loves very deeply wishes to conquer the woman he loves, to
conquer the heart of her and to have it as his possession. Dion had left
England knowing that he had won Rosamund but had never conquered
her. This South African campaign had come upon him like a great blow
delivered with intention; a blow which does not stun a man but which
wakes the whole man up. If this war had not broken out his life would
have gone on as before, harmoniously, comfortably, with the daily work,
and the daily exercise, and the daily intercourse with wife and child
and friends. And would he ever have absolutely known what he knew now,
what--he was certain of it!--his mother knew, what perhaps Beattie and
even Bruce Evelin knew?

He had surely failed in a great enterprise, but he was resolved to
succeed if long enough life were given to him. He was now awake and
walked in full knowledge. Surely, Rosamund being what she was, the issue
lay with himself. If God had stood between them that must be because he,
Dion, was not yet worthy of the full happiness which was his greatest
earthly desire. Dion was certain that God did not stand between Rosamund
and Robin.

He had dreams of returning to England a different, or perhaps a
developed, man. The perfect lovers ought to stand together on the same
level. Rosamund and he had never done that yet. He resolved to gain in
South Africa, to get a grip on his best possibilities, to go back to
England, if he ever went back, a bigger soul, freer,