Then she shook his arm gently, uttered a breathless little laugh, and spoke as though she were pleading with a child.
"I don't think you understand, Harry.

Here are three white feathers.
They were sent to you in jest?
Oh, of course in jest.

But it is a cruel kind of jest--" "They were sent in deadly earnest." He spoke now, looking her straight in the eyes.

Ethne dropped her hand from his sleeve.
"Who sent them ?" she asked.
Feversham had not given a thought to that matter.

The message was all in all, the men who had sent it so unimportant.