88 The Light That Failed “Tet’s be thankful that we have as much as we have. I don’t believe they've mounted a single new gun on the fort since we were here. Come and look.” They came to the glacis of Fort Keeling, and sat down in a nook sheltered from the wind under the tarred throat of a forty-pounder cannon. “Now, if Ammoma were only here!” said Maisie. For a long time both were silent. Then Dick took Maisie’s hand and called her by her name. She shook her head and looked out to sea. “Maisie, darling, doesn’t it make any difference?” “No!” between clenched teeth. “I'd — I'd tell you if it did; but it doesn’t, Oh, Dick, please be sensible.” “Don’t you think that it ever will?” bee) “No, I’m sure it won't. “Why?” Maisie rested her chin on her hand, and, still regarding the sea, spoke hurriedly — “I know what you want perfectly well, but I can’t give it to you, Dick. It isn’t my fault; indeed, it isn’t. If I felt that I could care for any one — But I don’t feel that I care. I simply don’t understand what the feeling means.” “Is that true, dear?” “You've been very good to me, Dickie; and the only way I can pay you back is by speaking the truth. I daren’t tell a fib. I despise myself quit enough as it is.” “What in the world for?” “Because — because I take everything that you give me and I give you nothing in return. It’s mean and selfish of me, and whenever | think of it it worries me.” “Understand once for all, then, that I can manage my own affairs, and if I choose to do anything you aren't to blame. You haven’t a single thing to reproach yourself with, darling.” “Yes, I have, and talking only makes it worse.”