author - "Warwick Deeping"

g sent to prison, and that this inconvenient ex- soldier should be caged up somewhere.

"I am going down to Esher for the week-end. I think I may be able to do something."

The rolling forehead and the emphatic chin became more aggressive.

"I don't like this delay. Now, can you assure me--?"

Beal glanced at the clock.

"I'm sorry; I am due at my hospital at half-past two. But, tell me, what do you mean--exactly--by delay?"

"Nothing is being done."

"It is better that nothing should be done. I presume you are suggesting some form of restraint?"

"Certainly; in my brother's interest."

Beal showed him eyes that were not blind.

"The interest lies all the other way. You'll excuse me; can my maid ring you up a taxi? Before I go, I may as well remind you I don't want your brother fussed or frightened."

Reginald Stretton remained on the hearthrug looking at the opposite wall for something he had meant to say and had forgotten, and Beal left him t

that behind Mrs. Betty's elegant verbiage there was a tenacity of purpose that would have surprised her best friends.

"I wonder whether Murchison is as privileged as I am?" he said, passing his cup over the red tea cosy.

"I suppose the woman gushes for him, just as I work my wits for you."

"The Amazons of Roxton."

"We live in a civilized age, Parker, but the battle is no less bitter for us. I use my head. Half the words I speak are winged for a final end."

"You are clever enough, Betty," he confessed.

"We both have brains" and she gave an ironical laugh "I shall not be content till the world, our world, fully recognizes that fact. Old Hicks is past his work. Murchison is the only rival you need consider. Therefore, Parker, our battle is with the gentleman of Lombard Street."

"And with the wife?"

"That is my affair."

Such life feuds as are chronicled in the hatred of a Fredegonde for a Brunehaut may be studied in miniature in many a modern setting.

back to London. I cannot say that we were sorry.

For, let us be candid. I could be classed as a selfish, and unpatriotic old curmudgeon, but when we have cut the sentimental cackle, one has to confess that you cannot mix classes that are as different as chalk and cheese. These women from the East End were much less clean than animals, and far less likeable. They were lazy lumps of flesh, coarse, vulgar, noisy, ignorant. You could hear their hideous voices and their obscene laughter all over the house. And you could smell them. Blame our social scheme, if it pleases you, but the fact was incontestable, they were no better than unclean savages in our lovely house.

I think it must have been in August that I received my first warning. I had gone shopping in Melford, and I met Gibson in the ironmongers. He was looking worried and cross.

"Been requisitioned yet?"

"Requisitioned?"

"They are taking my place over next week. I expect you will be."

I think I gaped at him.