"Blair, I think I can," replied Lane. "Then--before and after the draft--the whole country was at a white heat of all that the approach of war rouses. Fear, self-preservation, love of country, hate of the Huns, inspired patriotism, and in most everybody the will to fight and to sacrifice.... The war was a long, hideous, soul-racking, nerve-destroying time. When it ended, and the wild period of joy and relief had its run, then all that pertained to the war sickened and wearied and disgusted the majority of people. It's 'forget the war.' You and Payson and I got home a year too late." "Then--it's just--monstrous," said Blair, heavily. "That's all, Blair. Just monstrous. But we can't beat our spirits out against this wall. No one can understand us--how alone we are. Let's forget _that_--this wall--this thing called government. Shall we spend what time we have to live always in a thunderous atmosphere of mind--hating, pondering, bitter?" "No. I'll make a compact with you," returned Blair, with flashing eyes. "Never to speak again of _that_--so long as we live!" "Never to a living soul," rejoined Lane, with a ring in his voice. They shook hands much the same as when they had met half an hour earlier. "So!" exclaimed Blair, with a deep breath. "And now, Dare, tell me how you made out with Helen. You cut me short over the 'phone." "Blair, that day coming into New York on the ship, you didn't put it half strong enough," replied Lane. Then he told Blair about the call he had made upon Helen, and what had transpired at her studio. Blair did not voice the scorn that his eyes expressed. And, in fact, most of his talking was confined to asking questions. Lane found it easy enough to unburden himself, though he did not mention his calls on Mel Iden, or Colonel Pepper's disclosures. "Well, I guess it's high time we were meandering up to the hall," said Blair, consulting his watch. "I'm curious about this Prom. Think we're in for a jolt. It's four years since I went to a Prom. Now, both of us, Dare, have a sister who'll be there, besides all our old friends.... And we're not dancing! But I want to look on. They've got an out-of-town orchestra coming--a jazz orchestra. There'll probably be a hot time in the old town to-night." "Lorna did not tell me," replied Lane, as they got up to go. "But I suppose she'd rather I didn't know. We've clashed a good deal lately." "Dare, I hear lots of talk," said Blair. "Margaret is chummy with me, and some of her friends are always out at the house. I hear Dick Swann is rushing Lorna. Think he's doing it on the q-t." "I know he is, Blair, but I can't catch them together," returned Lane. "Lorna is working now. Swann got her the job." "Looks bad to me," replied Blair, soberly. "Swann is cutting a swath. I hear his old man is sore on him.... I'd take Lorna out of that office quick." "Maybe you would," declared Lane, grimly. "For all the influence or power I have over Lorna I might as well not exist."