were long, their faces black with dirt, monstrously
distended and fat with the bloated irony of starvation. They were no
longer men. After that unspeakable stress of misery nothing but the
animal remained.

"... Too weak to bury him, or even carry him out of the tent.... He
must lie where he is.... Last spoonful of glycerine and hot
water.... Divine service at 5:30 P.M...."

Once more Lloyd faltered in her writing; her hand moved slower. Shut her
teeth though she might, the sobs would come; swiftly the tears brimmed
her eyes, but she tried to wink them back, lest Bennett should see.
Heroically she wrote to the end of the sentence. A pause followed:

"Yes--' divine services at'--I--I--"

The pen dropped from her fingers and she sank down upon her desk, her
head bowed in the hollow of her bare arm, shaken from head to foot with
the violence of the crudest grief she had ever known. Bennett threw his
journal from him, and came to her, taking her in his arms, putting her
head upon his shoulder.

"Why, Lloyd, what is it--why, old chap, what the devil! I was a beast to
read that to you. It wasn't really as bad as that, you know, and
besides, look here, look at me. It all happened three years ago. It's
all over with now."

Without raising her head, and clinging to him all the closer, Lloyd
answered brokenly:

"No, no; it's not all over. It never, never will be."

"Pshaw, nonsense!" Bennett blustered, "you must not take it to heart
like this. We're going to forget all about it now. Here, damn the book,
anyhow! We've had enough of it to-day. Put your hat on. We'll have the
ponies out and drive somewhere. And to-night we'll go into town and see
a show at a theatre."

"No," protested Lloyd, pushing back from him, drying her eyes. "You
shall not think I'm so weak. We will go on with what we have to do--with
our work. I'm all right now."

Bennett marched her out of the room without more ado, and, following
her, closed and locked the door behind them. "We'll not write another
word of that stuff to-day. Get your hat and things. I'm going out to
tell Lewis to put the ponies in."

But that day marked a beginning. From that time on Lloyd never faltered,
and if there were moments when the iron bit deeper than usual into her
heart, Bennett never knew her pain. By degrees a course of action
planned itself for her. A direct appeal to Bennett she believed would
not only be useless, but beyond even her heroic courage. She must
in