"Well, there was one dream which my little sister and I used to discuss as I braided her hair at night. It was a dream that some day I should be great. She had a different idea of greatness from mine, and we used to argue the question. I don't think she ever wanted me to be President of the United States or to hold high office; she wanted me to do something which would help humanity. She used to wish that I might preach or teach; she was such a good little thing. And I would tell her that none of these vocations were for me; I must win fame in a different way. I wanted to invent something which would make the world stare. Perhaps that's the reason I took up aviation after she died. I thought I might make some great advance on the inventions of other men. But the other men made them first, you see, and I've just frivoled and played. Yet, as I saw you braiding your hair, it brought back my little sister so vividly, and I wondered what she would think of me--now." For the first time in her life her heart was stirred by the maternal tenderness which is the heritage of good women. Her timid hand touched his sleeve, lightly. "I am sure," said her little voice, unsteadily, "that if she knew you now, she would think you were--very nice." "You darling," he was saying in his heart, but he dared not say it with his lips. And he went on as calmly as he could. "I wish I could make you see my little sister as I knew her. She was such a pale little thing, with pale gold hair, and a little narrow face, and pale blue eyes. When I began to read Tennyson, I found my little sister again in 'Elaine'--and do you know, I was half glad she didn't live to grow up. Some man might have hurt her as Lancelot hurt Elaine. I know I haven't realized her dreams for me--but I've tried to hold on a bit to her ideal of goodness, and it has kept me from things which might have made me less of a man----" She was thrilled as she had never been. Justin began to loom up in her mind's eye as the Knight of the Tender Heart--that was what Sophie had called him. And how wonderful that he should be telling her all this! "Then," he continued, "the money came to me, and since then I've been a butterfly. I have not made good use of my wealth. I have needed a friend, you see, to help me make my dreams come true." He looked down at her. "Would you?" he asked. "Be your friend?" "Yes." "Oh, but I'm not good enough. I've always been a little selfish thing, except with mother. I loved her and I wasn't selfish with her. But I've wanted a good time, and I haven't cared for anything but my own pleasure. I'm not like your little sister, you see. I'm just a butterfly, too." "Oh, you--you're an angel," ardently. Again she was thrilled. Anthony had never said such things to her. Anthony had called her a child, and he had not needed her. And Justin wanted her friendship! All her awakened womanhood rose to meet his demand.