The thing was coming!  He should hear the story of the change that war had wrought in her.  She appeared to regard him as the one listener whom she had sought; as a confidant who alone could understand her.  His gift for listening was in full play as he relaxed and settled back in his chair, shading his eyes with his hand lest he should seem to stare.  For in his eagerness he would not miss any one of her varied signals of emotion.

She was as vivid as he knew that she would be, her narration flashes of impression in clear detail.  Her being seemed transparent to its depths and her moods through the last week to run past him in review.  He marvelled at times at her military knowledge; again at her impartiality.  She was neither for the Browns nor the Grays; she was simply telling what she had seen.  She passed by some horrors; on others she dwelt with fearless emphasis.

“Then the hand-grenades were thrown!” She put her hands over her eyes.  “As they fell”—­she put her hands over her ears—­“oh, the groans!”

“It was the Browns who started it!” he interjected in defence.  “I had hoped that we should escape that kind of warfare.”  He was too intent to recall what he had said to the premier about using every known method of destruction.

“And this is only the beginning, isn’t it?” she asked piteously, exhausted with her story.

“Only the beginning!” he agreed.

Again brooding wonder appeared in her eyes, while there was wonder in his eyes—­wonder at her.

“And you remain with your property!” he exclaimed in a burst of admiration.

Once more she was looking away into the distance; once more he was studying her profile.  He knew that she had gone through her experience without tears and without a scream.  She had been subjected to his final test of all merit—­war.  Courage she had, feminine courage.  And he had often asked himself what would happen if he, a great man, should ever meet a great woman.  He was baffled by the resources of a mind that was held in detachment under her charm; baffled as to what she was thinking at that moment, only to find her smiling at him, the wonder in her eyes resolving itself into purpose.

“You see, I have been very much stirred up,” she said half apologetically.  “There are some questions I want to ask—­quite practical, selfish questions.  You might call them questions of property and mercy.  The longer the war lasts the greater will be the loss of life and the misery?”

“Yes, for both sides; and the heavier the expense and the taxes.”

“If you win, then we shall be under your flag and pay taxes to you?”

“Yes, naturally.”

“The Browns do not increase in population; the Grays do rapidly.  They are a great, powerful, civilized race.  They stand for civilization!”

“Yes, facts and the world’s opinion agree,” he replied.  Puzzled he might well be by this peculiar catechism.  He could only continue to reply until he should see where she was leading.