Vincent had made up his mind when he enlisted in the army, to form no attachment for any girl, until the war was over. Therefore he tried to persuade himself that he was glad that Miss Oliver had proved disappointing. He tried to persuade himself too, that he was thankful for Barbara's disillusioning remarks about her. Barbara had relieved herself of an accumulation of facts and opinions in regard to Elizabeth Oliver, at the luncheon table, on the very day after the hill-top episode.
"We girls don't think much of this friend of Alice Farnum's," Barbara had said plainly, Barbara-like, "and Alice herself acts ashamed of her. Refuses to tell us who and what she is. Just says as briefly as possible that she's an old boarding-school friend here on a visit. Whoever she may be, she's the most flippant creature I've met for a long while—brazenly flippant too. She seems to delight to flaunt her disregard of duty before the rest of her sex who are doing their utmost to be of service. When one of us asked her to come down and help at the Red Cross rooms, she said, 'No, thanks, she couldn't.' 'Let somebody else do it,' was her motto just now. Pretty motto, isn't it, for war-times? Perhaps she meant it for humor, but she didn't turn up for any work anyhow! I doubt if she's got such a
