Why, of course, Lanny! Till war does
come he is only a gardener with an illusion that is giving mental
strength. Why didn't you put it that way before?" she asked in surprise
at so easy a solution having escaped them. "Let him stay, at least until
war comes."

"And then?"

"Lanny, you yourself, with all your information, you don't think--"

"No; though we are nearer it than ever before, it seems to me," he said,
choosing his words carefully. "But it is likely that diplomacy will find
its way out of this crisis as it has out of many others."

"Then we'll leave that question till the evil day," she replied. "We
have had a terrific argument, Lanny, haven't we? And you have won!"

Her fingers flew out to his arm and rested lightly there after an
instant's firm pressure, as was her wont after an argument and they
sheathed their blades. Their comradeship seemed to be restored in all
its old glory of freedom from petty restraint. He was sure of one thing:
that she would let her fingers remain on no other man's sleeve in this
fashion; and he hoped that she would let them remain there a long time.
Very foolish he was about her, very foolish for a piece of human
machinery driven by the dynamo of a human will.

"I have an impression that your goodness of heart has won," he suggested
gently.

"Or rather let us say that Feller has won."

"Better still, yes, Feller has won!" he agreed. "Oh, it is good, good,
good to be here with you, Marta, away from the grind for a little
while," he was saying, in the fulness of his anticipation of the hours
they should have together before he had to go, when they heard the sound
of steps. He looked around to see an orderly from the nearest military
wireless station.

"I was told it was urgent, sir," said the orderly, in excuse for his
intrusion, as he passed a telegram to Lanstron.

Immediately Lanstron felt the touch of the paper his features seemed to
take on a mask that concealed his thought as he read:

"Take night express. Come direct from station to me. Partow."

This meant that he would be expected at Partow's office at eight the
next morning. He wrote his answer; the orderly saluted and departed at a
rapid pace; and then, as a matter of habit of the same kind that makes
some men wipe their pens when laying them down, he struck a match and
set fire to one corner of the paper, which burned to his fingers' ends
before he tossed the charred remains away. Marta imagined what he wou