sob, now, and silence; then, in the sudden effort of one who
must change the subject to hold his sanity, she asked:

"How is Feller? Is he doing well?"

"Yes."

"At least I have brought him happiness. Sometimes I think that is about
all the good I have accomplished--I, his successor in carrying out your
plans! Oh, I'm burned out, Lanny! I'm ashes. It doesn't seem that I can
ever be sane or clean and human again. In order to forget I should have
to find a new life, like Feller. Each morning when I look in the mirror
I expect to see my hair turned white, like his."

Lanstron felt her suffering as if it were his own. He had let his
patriotic passion overwhelm every other consideration. He had allowed
her to be a spy; he had sacrificed her sensibilities along with the
battalions he had sent into battle. She was right: he was only the
inhuman head of a machine. And she and Feller--they were human. Destiny
playing in the crux of war's inconsistencies had formed a bond between
them.

"But, go on, Lanny. Play your part as you see it--as Westerling sees his
and Feller his and I mine," she said. "That is the only logic clear to
me; only I can't play any more. I haven't the strength."

"Yes, I shall go on, Marta," he replied, "but you must not. Your work is
over, and perhaps this last service may bring a quick end and save
countless lives."

"Don't. It's too like Westerling! It has become too trite!" she
protested. "The end! If I really were helping toward that and to save
lives and our country to its people, what would my private feelings
matter' My honor, my soul--what would anything matter? For that, any
sacrifice. I'm only one human being--a weak, lunatic sort of one, just
now!"

"Marta, don't suffer so! You are overwrought. You--"

"I can say all that for you, Lanny," she interrupted with the faintest
laugh. "I've said it so many times to myself. Perhaps when I call you up
again I shall not be so hysterical. Tell Feller how I have played his
part, and, in the midst of all your responsibilities, remember to give
him a chance."

Lanstron was not thinking of war or war's combination when he hung up
the receiver.

"Yes, it is Gustave!" he thought. "I understand!" It was some moments
before he returned to the staff room, and then he had mastered his
emotion. He was the soldier again.

* * * * *

"They are clearing the wires for the chief of staff to speak to you,
sir," announced th