r no object except to terrorise,
and to bring home to the Belgians the unwisdom of presuming to cross the
will of the sovereign people. To-night, in the evening papers, there had
been a fresh batch of these revolting stories, and when Michael entered
the studio where Sylvia and her mother were sitting, he saw the girl let
drop behind the sofa the paper she had been reading. He guessed what she
must have found there, for he had already seen the paper himself, and
her silence, her distraction, and the misery of her face confirmed his
conjecture.

"I've brought you a little news to-night," he said. "The first draft
from the regiment went off to-day."

Mrs. Falbe put down her book, marking the place.

"Well, that does look like business, then," she said, "though I must say
I should feel safer if they didn't send our soldiers away. Where have
they gone to?"

"Destination unknown," said Michael. "But it's France. My cousin has
gone."

"Francis?" asked Sylvia. "Oh, how wicked to send boys like that."

Michael saw that her nerves were sharply on edge. She had given him no
greeting, and now as he sat down she moved a little away from him. She
seemed utterly unlike herself.

"Mother has been told that every Englishman is as brave as two Germans,"
she said. "She likes that."

"Yes, dear," observed Mrs. Falbe placidly. "It makes one feel safer. I
saw it in the paper, though; I read it."

Sylvia turned on Michael.

"Have you seen the evening paper?" she asked.

Michael knew what was in her mind.

"I just looked at it," he said. "There didn't seem to be much news."

"No, only reports, rumours, lies," said Sylvia.

Mrs. Falbe got up. It was her habit to leave the two alone together,
since she was sure they preferred that; incidentally, also, she got on
better with her book, for she found conversation rather distracting. But
to-night Sylvia stopped her.

"Oh, don't go yet, mother," she said. "It is very early."

It was clear that for some reason she did not want to be left alone with
Michael, for never had she done this before. Nor did it avail anything
now, for Mrs. Falbe, who was quite determined to pursue her reading
without delay, moved towards the door.

"But I am sure Michael wants to talk to you, dear," she said, "and you
have not seen him all day. I think I shall go up to bed."

Sylvia made no further effort to detain her, but when she had gone, the
silence in which they had so often sat together had take