CHAPTER XXVIII.
After dinner that night, in the living room the two older children studied their lessons and Edith sat mending a pair of rompers for little Tad.
Presently Roger came out from his den with the evening paper in his hand and sat down close beside her.

He did this conscientiously almost every evening.

With a sigh he opened his paper to read, again there was silence in the room, and in this silence Roger's mind roamed far away across the sea.
For the front page of his paper was filled with the usual headlines, tidings which a year before would have made a man's heart jump into his throat, but which were getting commonplace now.

Dead and wounded by the thousands, famine, bombs and shrapnel, hideous atrocities, submarines and floating mines, words once remote but now familiar, always there on the front page and penetrating into his soul, becoming a part of Roger Gale, so that never again when the war was done would he be the same man he was before.

For he had forever lost his faith in the sanity and steadiness of the great mind of humanity.