VII + 

Another seven months of the war dragged by, and then came conscription in England. At first they took only the unmarried men which, however, did not deceive Millo. That February he said to Gian-Luca: + 

“I am going to lose you quite soon⁠—the question is, how shall I replace you when it happens?” + 

Gian-Luca answered. “I will stay until they fetch me.” And his mouth looked arrogant and stubborn. + 

“You have served me faithfully and well,” Millo told him. “I do not forget good service. You have worked like ten men to keep your rooms going, and for that I want to say that I am grateful⁠—well, I think that is all, Gian-Luca.” + 

That March came the news that Riccardo had been killed. Riccardo would never come back to the Doric, in spite of that feeling in his bones. + 

“So now I am sure of his place,” thought Gian-Luca. He felt no particular pity for Riccardo⁠—after all, Riccardo had died for his country, and could there be a better way to die? + 

But Millo was secretly grieved in his heart, for the little Alano was also dead. Oh, but many who had faithfully served the Doric would never serve it again. Day after day alone in his office sat Millo, thinking always of food; struggling with problems of luncheons and dinners, of dwindling provisions and a dwindling staff. Secretly grieved in his heart, yes, perhaps; but doggedly determined to see the thing through; for war or no war, there were people to feed, people who still expected to be fed very much as they always had been. + 