Kissing Kin Read Online Free

family. Phoebe and Oliver all these years, in spite of Jeff and—what’s her name again?”
    “Her- mi -o-ne,” said Dinah distinctly, and made a face. “Maia chose it.”
    “Oh, dear,” said Camilla. “And would Phoebe live in England if she marries Oliver?”
    “I can’t imagine what Oliver would do in America—he’s Army,” said Dinah. “Her books often had an English background , anyway. She can go on writing them there. If the war ever ends.”
    “Speaking of the war,” said Calvert, bringing them back to it firmly, and disposing of women’s gossip.

    When Camilla sailed for England at the end of the month, Calvert had already crossed the border to enlist with the Canadians and was training under canvas in the Laurentians. The first letters she had from him were gaily studded with Army slang and a few technical terms thrown in to impress her. It was plain that he was happy there, and was adapting himself with ease to the tough existence of a new recruit, walking his ten miles without falling dead, eating his dull,plentiful food with an uncritical appetite, forming friendships in the oddly assorted society into which he had pitchforked himself.
    Camilla was very proud of him. She had known all along that he wasn’t a sissy and would not be dismayed by bad weather or bodily discomfort and privation—but she had wondered about the strangeness, for that was her own difficulty . She herself was as brave as a lion, she was sure, and wouldn’t mind submarines or bombs a bit, but she did dread homesickness and separation from Calvert. He, of course, had once been away from Richmond to school. But she, even while she was still under Dinah’s wing, had felt suddenly unfledged and forlorn after Calvert went to Canada.
    There had been a scurry to collect her overseas kit in time, for Dinah’s appeal in Bracken’s name to the right people in Washington had procured a passport for Camilla with startling promptness. Her luggage loaded with warm things to wear and with goodies for the family in England, she caught the boat—a small English liner—in a breathless state, and found herself launched, alone and still incredulous, on her adventure.
    The announcement of America’s entry into the war came by wireless during an otherwise uneventful voyage, and went to everyone’s head far quicker than the champagne which was drunk to celebrate it. But Camilla was secretly glad that she and Calvert had both got away before it happened. Everyone said, on soberer thought, that it would be months before America could be of any practical help, even now, and they would both have gone mad if they had had to wait and cross with belated American units after all.
    Camilla dropped off to sleep in her bunk on the night of April 6th feeling smug and excited and impatient—and a little dizzy with champagne. She and Calvert had beat the gun. They were in it. All the slow-coaches back home would be kicking their heels for months yet, wasting time. The war might be over before America had contributed much besides moral support…
    London was showing the Stars-and-Stripes when she got there, and in Flanders the Canadians had just taken Vimy Ridgewith terrible losses. She was proud to say, “My brother will be coming over with the Canadians,” even though it caught in her throat. She would see him again before he went into the Line. They always trained a while in England, but replacements would be badly needed now.
    Mr. Lloyd George was Prime Minister of England, and had introduced what was described as a sort of war-time Lent, which was an honourable competition in voluntary self-denial, and he was regarded with general goodwill and so far with only a little misgiving. He had most of the faults and virtues of a born warrior and a constitutional democrat. He was boundlessly energetic and optimistic. After the rounded parliamentary periods and sleek diplomacy of Mr. Asquith, he reacted on the war-weary British public like an astringent