"No, Mel. I'm in pretty bad shape," he replied. "Lucky to get home alive--to see you all." "I'm sorry. You're so white. You're wonderfully changed, Daren." "So are you. But I'll say I'm happy it's not painted face and plucked eyebrows.... Mel, what's happened to you?" She suddenly espied the decoration on his coat. The blood rose and stained her clear cheek. With a gesture of exquisite grace and sensibility that thrilled Lane she touched the medal. "Oh! The _Croix de Guerre_.... Daren, you were a hero." "No, Mel, just a soldier." She looked up into his face with eyes that fascinated Lane, so beautiful were they--the blue of corn-flowers--and lighted then with strange rapt glow. "Just a soldier!" she murmured. But Lane heard in that all the sweetness and understanding possible for any woman's heart. She amazed him--held him spellbound. Here was the sympathy--and something else--a nameless need--for which he yearned. The moment was fraught with incomprehensible forces. Lane's sore heart responded to her rapt look, to the sudden strange passion of her pale face. Swiftly he divined that Mel Iden gloried in the presence of a maimed and proven soldier. "Mel, I'll come to see you," he said, breaking the spell. "Do you still live out on the Hill road? I remember the four big white oaks." "No, Daren, I've left home," she said, with slow change, as if his words recalled something she had forgotten. All the radiance vanished, leaving her singularly white. "Left home! What for?" he asked, bluntly. "Father turned me out," she replied, with face averted. The soft roundness of her throat swelled. Lane saw her full breast heave under her coat. "What're you saying, Mel Iden?" he demanded, as quickly as he could find his voice. Then she turned bravely to meet his gaze, and Lane had never seen as sad eyes as looked into his. "Daren, haven't you heard--about me?" she asked, with tremulous lips. "No. What's wrong?" "I--I can't let you call on me." "Why not? Are you married--jealous husband?" "No, I'm not married--but I--I have a baby," she whispered. "Mel!" gasped Lane. "A war baby?" "Yes." Lane was so shocked he could not collect his scattered wits, let alone think of the right thing to say, if there were any right thing. "Mel, this is a--a terrible surprise. Oh, I'm sorry.... How the war played hell with all of us! But for you--Mel Iden--I can't believe it." "Daren, so terribly true," she said. "Don't I look it?" "Mel, you look--oh--heartbroken." "Yes, I am broken-hearted," she replied, and drooped her head. "Forgive me, Mel. I hardly know what I'm saying.... But listen--I'm coming to see you." "No," she said.