orld swarmed in no-man's-land.

Conscious that she had been fashioned to trouble man, the knowledge
merely left her indefinitely contented, save when she remembered Jim.
But that he had checked her drift toward him merely excited her; for
she knew she had been made to trouble such as he; and she had seen his
face that night....

* * * * *

Ilse, on her way home to dress--for she was going out somewhere with
Estridge--stopped for tea at Palla's house, and found her a little
disturbed over an anonymous letter just delivered--a typewritten sheet
bluntly telling her to take her friends and get out of the hall where
the Combat Club held its public sessions; and warning her of serious
trouble if she did not heed this "friendly" advice.

"Pouf!" exclaimed Ilse contemptuously, "I get those, too, and tear
them up. People who talk never strike. Are you anxious, darling?"

Palla smiled: "Not a bit--only such cowardice saddens me.... And the
days are grey enough...."

"Why do you say that? I think it is a wonderful winter--a beautiful
year!"

Palla lifted her brown eyes and let them dwell on the beauty of this
clear-skinned, golden-haired girl who had discovered beauty in the
aftermath of the world's great tragedy.

Ilse smiled: "Life is good," she said. "This world is all to be done
over in the right way. We have it all before us, you and I, Palla, and
those who love and understand."

"I am wondering," said Palla, "who understands us. I'm not discouraged,
but--there seems to be so much indifference in the world."

"Of course. That is our battle to overcome it."

"Yes. But, dear, there seems to be so much hatred, too, in the world.
I thought the war had ended, but everywhere men are still in
battle--everywhere men are dying of this fierce hatred that seems to
flame up anew across the world; everywhere men fight and slay to gain
advantage. None yields, none renounces, none gives. It is as though
love were dead on earth."

"Love is being reborn," said Ilse cheerfully. "Birth means pain,
always----"

Without warning, a hot flush flooded her face; she averted it as the
tea-tray was brought and set on a table before Palla. When her face
cooled, she leaned back in her chair, cup in hand, a sort of confused
sweetness in her blue eyes.

Palla's heart was beating heavily as she leaned on the table, her cup
untasted, her idle fingers crumbing the morsel of biscuit between
them.