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 tress. Yet he knew it just as well as though they had told him. He knew the direction in which they were travelling and perhaps his loving dog heart was singing home, or more likely it was just his dog instinct, which often puts man's knowledge to shame.

In the meantime the great actress was resting in her wonderful boudoir with beauty and luxury all around her. Yet she was not happy. She had temporarily broken down and could no longer do her part for France. She made no allowances for herself. She did not say that she was nearly seventy, and should be resting by rights. For her heart and soul were made of stern stuff, and she felt the call of duty just as strongly as she ever had.

She was really lonely and wanted somebody to love. Something or somebody