that there was a true magnetic pole in this cubby-hole of a room.
Kitty, however, had vivid recollections. Actually the first strange man she had ever met. But not having been visible on her horizon, except in flashes, she knew of the man only what she had read and what Burlingame had casually offered during discussions.
"Well, anyhow," said Burlingame, complacently, "the war is over."
Cutty smiled indulgently. "That's the trouble with us chaps who tramp round the world for news. We can't bamboozle ourselves like you folks who stay at home. The war was only the first phase. There's a mess over there; wanting something and not knowing exactly what, those millions; milling cattle, with neither shed nor pasture. The Lord only knows how long it will take to clarify. Would you mind if I smoked?"
"Wow!" cried Burlingame.
"Not at all," answered Kitty. "I don't see how any pipe could be worse than Mr. Burlingame's."
"I apologize," said the dramatic editor, humbly.
"You needn't," replied the girl. She turned to the war correspondent. "Any new drums?"
"I remember that day. You were scared half to death at my walls."
"Small wonder! I was only twelve; and I dreamed of cannibals for weeks."
