fell into the piano. There was the occasion,
the first on which Michael had been present, when two eminent actors
imitated each other; another when Francis came and made himself so
immensely agreeable. It was after that one that Sylvia and Hermann had
sat and talked in front of the stove, discussing, as Sylvia laughed to
remember, what she would say when Michael proposed to her. Then had come
the break in Michael's attendances and, as Sylvia allowed, a certain
falling-off in gaiety.

"But it was really Hermann and I who made you gay originally," she said.
"We take a wonderful deal of credit for that."

All this was as completely natural for them as was the impromptu meal,
and soon without effort Michael spoke of his mother again, and presently
afterwards of the news of war. But with him by her side Sylvia found
her courage come back to her; the news itself, all that it certainly
implied, and all the horror that it held, no longer filled her with
the sense that it was impossibly terrible. Michael did not diminish the
awfulness of it, but he gave her the power of looking out bravely at it.
Nor did he shrink from speaking of all that had been to her so grim a
nightmare.

"You haven't heard from Hermann?" he asked.

"No. And I suppose we can't hear now. He is with his regiment, that's
all; nor shall we hear of him till there is peace again."

She came a little closer to him.

"Michael, I have to face it, that I may never see Hermann again," she
said. "Mother doesn't fear it, you know. She--the darling--she lives
in a sort of dream. I don't want her to wake from it. But how can I get
accustomed to the thought that perhaps I shan't see Hermann again? I
must get accustomed to it: I've got to live with it, and not quarrel
with it."

He took up her hand, enclosing it in his.

"But, one doesn't quarrel with the big things of life," he said. "Isn't
it so? We haven't any quarrel with things like death and duty. Dear me,
I'm afraid I'm preaching."

"Preach, then," she said.

"Well, it's just that. We don't quarrel with them: they manage
themselves. Hermann's going managed itself. It had to be."

Her voice quivered as she spoke now.

"Are you going?" she asked. "Will that have to be?"

Michael looked at her a moment with infinite tenderness.

"Oh, my dear, of course it will," he said. "Of course, one doesn't know
yet what the War Office will do about the Army. I suppose it's possible
that they will send troops to Fr