, hard-faced men
and women, gathered in little groups around the orator of the moment.
Hebblethwaite felt a queer premonition that evening. A man of sanguine
temperament, thoroughly contented with himself and his position, he
seemed almost for the first time in his life, to have doubts, to look
into the future, to feel the rumblings of an earthquake, the great
dramatic cry of a nation in the throes of suffering. Had they been wise,
all these years, to have legislated as though the old dangers by land and
sea had passed?--to have striven to make the people fat and prosperous,
to have turned a deaf ear to every note of warning? Supposing the other
thing were true! Supposing Norgate and Spencer Wyatt had found the truth!
What would history have to say then of this Government of which he was so
proud? Would it be possible that they had brought the country to a great
prosperity by destroying the very bulwarks of its security?

The car drew up with a jerk, and Hebblethwaite came back to earth.
Nevertheless, he promised himself, as he hastened across the pavement,
that on the morrow he would pay a long-delayed visit to the War Office.

CHAPTER XXIII

Anna was seated, a few days later, with her dearest friend, the Princess
of Thurm, in a corner of the royal enclosure at Ascot. For the first time
since their arrival they found themselves alone. From underneath her
parasol the Princess looked at her friend curiously.

"Anna," she said, "something has happened to you."

"Perhaps, but explain yourself," Anna replied composedly.

"It is so simple. There you sit in a Doucet gown, perfection as ever,
from the aigrette in your hat to those delicately pointed shoes. You have
been positively hunted by all the nicest men--once or twice, indeed, I
felt myself neglected--and not a smile have I seen upon your lips. You go
about, looking just a little beyond everything. What did you see, child,
over the tops of the trees in the paddock, when Lord Wilton was trying so
hard to entertain you?"

"An affair of moods, I imagine," Anna declared. "Somehow I don't feel
quite in the humour for Ascot to-day. To be quite frank," she went on,
turning her head slowly, "I rather wonder that you do, Mildred."

The Princess raised her eyebrows.

"Why not? Everything, so far as I am concerned, is _couleur de rose_.
Madame Blanche declared yesterday that my complexion would last for
twenty years. I found a dozen of the most adorable hats in Par