"I don't want to think about myself," Leila said, passionately; "everybody thinks about me. It is Barry I want to think of, Mary." Mary patted the flushed cheek. "Barry is a fortunate boy," she said. Then, with hesitation, "Leila, when you knew, did it make a difference?" "Difference?" "In your feeling for Barry?" And now the child eyes were woman eyes. "Yes," she said, "it made a difference. But the difference was this--that I loved him more. I don't know whether I can explain it so that you will understand, Mary. But then you aren't like me. You've always been so wonderful, like Barry. But you see I've never been wonderful. I've always been just a little silly thing, pretty enough for people to like, and childish enough for everybody to pet, and because I was pretty and little and childish, nobody seemed to think that I could be anything else. And for a long time I didn't dream that Barry was in love with me. I just knew that I--cared. But it was the kind of caring that didn't expect much in return. And when Barry said that I was the only woman in the world for him--I had the feeling that it was a pleasant dream, and that--that some day I'd wake up and find that he had made a mistake and that he should have chosen a princess instead of just a little goosie-girl. But when I knew that Barry had to fight, everything changed. I knew that I could really help. More than the princess, perhaps, because you see she might not have cared to bother--and she might not have loved him enough to--overlook." "You blessed child," Mary said with a catch in her voice, "you mustn't be so humble--it's enough to spoil any man." "Not Barry," Leila said; "he loves me because I am so loving." Oh, wisdom of the little heart. There might be men who could love for the sake of conquest; there might be men who could meet coldness with ardor, and affection with indifference. Barry was not one of these. The sacred fire which burned in the heart of his sweet mistress had lighted the flame in his own. It was Leila's love as well as Leila that he wanted. And she knew and treasured the knowledge. It was when Mary left that she said, with forced lightness, "You'll be going soon, and what a summer you will have together." It was on Leila's lips to cry, "But I want our life together to begin now. What's one summer in a whole life of love?" But she did not voice her cry. She kissed Mary and smiled wistfully, and went back into the dusky room to dream of Barry--Barry her young husband, with whom she had walked in her little yellow gown over the hills and far away. And while she dreamed, Barry, in Jerry Tuckerman's big blue car, was flying over other hills, and farther away from Leila than he had ever been in his life.