Because if she
has nothing to do but live from day to day on memories and hopes,
there will be a time when some man at hand will obscure the figure of
the absent one. That is all that happened to me, Robin. I longed for
you. Then I began to resent your complete absorption by the war
machine. Then you got dim, like the figure of a man walking away down
a long road. Do you remember how it was? Leave once in six months or
so. A kiss of welcome and a good-by right on its heels. There were
thousands like me in London. The war took our men--but took no account
of us. We were untrained. There were no jobs to occupy our hands--none
we could put our hearts into--none that could be gotten without
influence in the proper quarters. We couldn't pose successfully enough
to persuade ourselves that it was a glorious game. They had taken our
men, and there was nothing much left. We did not have to earn our
keep. If you had only not stuck so closely to the front lines."
"I had to," Hollister said sharply. "I had no choice. The country----"
"The country! That shadowy phantasm--that recruiting sergeant's
plea--that political abstraction that is flung in one's face along
with other platitudes from every platform," Myra broke out
passionately.
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