proud to be an English soldier--proud to the roots of his being. His
quiet patriotism had become a passion; he knew now in what he had
believed.

Yes--England for ever! An English home after the war--and English
children. Oh, he hoped Nelly would have children! As he held her pressed
against him, he seemed to see her in the future--with the small things
round her. But he did not speak of it.

She meanwhile was thinking of quite other things, and presently she said
in a quick, troubled voice--

'George!--while you are away--you don't want me to do munitions?'

He laughed out.

'Munitions! I see you at a lathe! Dear--I don't think you'd earn your
keep!' And he lifted her delicate arm and tiny hand, and looked at them
with scientific curiosity. Her frail build was a constant wonder and
pleasure to him. But small as she was, there was something unusual, some
prophecy, perhaps, of developments to come, in the carriage of her head,
and in some of her looks. Her education had been extremely slight, many
of her ideas were still childish, and the circle from which she came had
been inferior in birth and breeding to his own. But he had soon realised
on their honeymoon, in spite of her simple talk, that she was very
quick--very intelligent.

'Because--' she went on, doubtfully--'there are so many other things I
could do--quite useful things. There's sphagnum moss! Everybody up here
is gathering sphagnum moss--you know--for bandages--upon the fells. I
daresay Bridget might help in that. She won't do any other sort of
war-work.'

'Why, I thought all women were doing some kind of war-work!'

'Bridget won't. She doesn't want to hear about the war at all. She's
bored with it.'

'Bored with it! Good heavens!' Sarratt's countenance clouded.
'Darling--that'll be rather hard on you, if you and she are going to
live together.'

Nelly lifted her head from his shoulder, and looked at him rather
gravely.

'I'm afraid you don't know much about Bridget, George. She's,--well,
she's--one of the--oddest women you ever met.'

'So it seems! But why is she bored with the war?'

'Well--you see--it doesn't matter to _her_ in any way--and she doesn't
want it to matter to her. There's nobody in it she cares about.'

'Thanks!' laughed Sarratt. But Nelly still grave, shook her head. 'Oh,
she's not the least like other people. She won't care about you, George,
just because you've married me. And--'

'And what? Is she still angry with me