“Pat, how silly.”

“No joking, lamb.  I couldn’t ignore the appeal—­besides, he’ll keep me straight while you are away.”

“Pat—­come with me!” Joan bent over the dog, who already showed his preference for Patricia.

“I cannot, Joan.  The trade is growing—­I am planning an exhibition.  I’m ashamed to say it, but the business is getting into my gray matter.  No—­go to your duty, lamb—­the pup and I will get acquainted and make up for lost time.”

And while Joan made preparations to go to New York, and while Doris and Nancy planned to make her visit a success, something occurred that changed all their lives.  It was the epidemic of influenza.  The shrouded and menacing Thing approached like the plague that it was to prove itself.  It was no discerner of people; its area was limitless, it harvested whence it would and, while it was named, it was not understood.

David Martin ordered Doris and Nancy out of town at once.

“You may not escape,” he said, “but your best chance is in the open.  Besides, you’ll leave us freer here.”

“But Joan—­David!”

“Joan be hanged!  Can’t she get to Ridge House?”

“Of course.  But I wanted to have her here to—­to justify herself.  Emily Tweksbury is trying to make a tragedy of Joan.  I’m afraid Ken suspects her—­his awful silences are insulting—­I wanted to—­to show her off.”

“Nonsense, Doris!  But this is no time for squibbling.  Scoot!”

“But—­you, David!”

“I?  Oh!  I’m all right.  Remember I have Bud.  Why, the chap is pulling up his sleeves and baring his breast to the foe.  I’m going to stand close by him.”

Martin’s eyes shone.

“David, if anything should happen to you——­” Doris paused.

“I’ll run down now and then,” Martin took the thin, delicate hands in his.  “I’ll come—­when I feel tired.”

“You promise, David?”

“I—­swear it.”

So Doris took Nancy away.  A tearful, woe-begone Nancy who clung to Raymond with the tenacity of a love that faces a desperate situation.

“Beloved,” whispered Raymond, “I’m going to get Aunt Emily out of the danger zone and then I’ll come to you.  If this Joan of yours has arrived—­we’ll be married, you and I, at once.  We don’t care for the society fizz.  This epidemic makes you think about—­taking joy while you can.”

“Yes, Ken—­if—­if Joan will stay with Aunt Dorrie.”

“Well, by heaven!  She’ll have to stay.  I’m not going to let them cheat me!”

To this Nancy gave a look that thrilled Raymond as he had never been thrilled before—­it was supreme surrender.

And presently in the stricken city gaiety and laughter seemed to die away in the black, swooping shadow.

“When you use up all you know,” Clive Cameron said one night to David, “you still keep hunting about for something else, don’t you?”

Martin nodded.  Both men were worn and haggard.  They were fighting in the front ranks with the men of their profession—­fighting an unknown foe, but bravely gaining confidence.