He could not
go to her with them, but mentally he was always consulting with
her, earning her approbation. And she had gone without a word.
"Do you think she has gone to France?" He knew his voice sounded
stiff and constrained.
"I hope not. She was being so useful here. Of course, the draft
law - amazing thing, the draft law! Never thought we'd come to it.
But it threw her out, in a way, of course."
"What has the draft law to do with Mrs. Valentine?"
"Why, you know what she was doing, don't you?"
"I haven't seen her recently."
The rector half-stopped.
"Well!" he said. "Let me tell you, Clayton, that that girl has
been recruiting men, night after night and day after day. She's
done wonders. Standing in a wagon, mind you, in the slums, or
anywhere; I heard her one night. By George, I went home and tore
up a sermon I had been working on for days."
Why hadn't he known? Why hadn't he realized that that was exactly
the sort of thing she would do? There was bitterness in his heart,
too.
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