But she sat at the window with no desire for oblivion.

On the lawn paced a young man with a rifle in the crook of his arm. He was
tall and young and very gallant of bearing; no less a person than Mortimer
Dwight, who had been sworn in that morning as a member of the Citizens'
Patrol, and at his own request detailed to keep watch over the house of
Mrs. Groome.

He had not been able to pay his promised visits during the day but had
arrived at seven o'clock, dining beside Mrs. Abbott, and surrounded by old
ladies whose names were as historic as Mrs. Groome's. The cook had deserted
after the second heavy shock, and, with her wardrobe in a pillow case, had
tramped to the farthest confines of the Presidio. It was not fear alone
that induced her flight. There was a rumor that the Government would feed
the city, and why should not a hard-working woman enjoy a month or two of
sheer idleness? Let the quality cook for themselves. It would do them good.

James and the housemaid had cooked the dinner, and Alexina and her friends
waited on the table. Then the girls, to Alexina's relief, went home to
inquire after their families, and she accompanied Mr. Dwight while he
explored every corner of the grounds to make sure that no potential thieves
lurked in the heavy shadows cast by the trees.

He had been very alert and thorough and Alexina admired him consumedly.
There was no question but that he was one of those men--Aileen called it
the one hundred per cent male--upon whose clear brain and strong arm a
woman might depend even in the midst of an infuriated mob. He had an
opportunity that comes to few aspiring young men born into the world's
unblest millions, and if he made the most of it he was equally assured that
he was acting in strict accord with the instincts and characteristics that