“Gee, you’re mean,” Mrs. Tweed retorted, “to talk that way about women who are giving up everything for their country.  Mrs. Kent’s two boys are in the trenches, actually fighting, not just parading round in uniform like you.  She goes every day and works in the office of the Red Cross and tries to keep every tangle straightened out.  She’s not jealous of me—­she despises me for a little feather-brained pinhead.  She thinks I am even worse than I am.  She thinks I am as bad as you would like me to be!  Naturally enough, she judges me by my company.”

Sergeant Brown’s face flushed dull red, but she went on:  “That woman is all right—­take it from me.”

“Well, don’t get sore on me,” he said quickly; “I’m not the one who is turning you down.  I’ve always stuck up for you and you know it!”

“Why shouldn’t you?” she cried.  “You know well that I am straight, even if I am a fool.  These women are out of patience with me and my class——­”

“Men are always more charitable to women than women are to each other, anyway—­women are cats, mostly!” he said, as he rolled a cigarette.

“There you go again!” she cried,—­“pretending that you know.  I tell you women are women’s best friends.  What help have you given to me to run straight, for all your hot air about thinking so much of me?  You’ve stuck around my flat until I had to put you out—­you’ve never sheltered or protected me in any way.  Men are broad-minded toward women’s characters because they do not care whether women are good or not—­they would rather that they were not.  I do not mean all men,—­William was different, and there are plenty like him—­but I mean men like you who run around with soldiers’ wives and slam the women who are our friends, and who are really concerned about us.  You are twenty years older than I am.  You’re always blowing about how much you know about women—­also the world.  Why didn’t you advise me not to make a fool of myself?”

Sergeant Brown leaned over and patted her hand.  “There now, Trixie,” he said, “don’t get excited; you’re the best girl in town, only you’re too high-strung.  Haven’t I always stood by you?  Did I ever turn you down, even when these high-brow ladies gave you the glassy eye?  Why are you going back on a friend now?  You had lots to say about the Daughter of the Empire who came to see you the last time.”

“She wasn’t nice to me,” said Mrs. Tweed; “but she meant well, anyway.  But I’m getting ashamed of myself now—­for I see I am not playing the game.  Things have gone wrong through no fault of ours.  The whole world has gone wrong, and it’s up to us to bring it right if we can.  These women are doing their share—­they’ve given up everything.  But what have I done?  I let William go, of course, and that’s a lot, for I do think a lot of William; but I am not doing my own share.  Running around to the stores, eating late suppers, saying snippy things about other women, and giving people an excuse for not giving to the Patriotic Fund.  You and I sitting here to-day, eating expensive things, are not helping to win the war, I can tell you.”