He sat down heavily, and, completely unnerved, he covered his face with his hands. His shoulders heaved and short, strangled sobs broke from him. Lenore had to overcome a rush of tenderness. It was all she could do to keep from dropping to her knees beside him and slipping her arms around his neck. In her agitation she could not decide whether that would be womanly or not; only, she must make no mistakes. A hot, sweet flush went over her when she thought that always as a last resort she could reveal her secret and use her power. What would he do when he discovered she loved him? "Kurt, I understand," she said, softly, and put a hand on his shoulder. And she stood thus beside him, sadly troubled, vaguely divining that her presence was helpful, until he recovered his composure. As he raised his head and wiped tears from his eyes he made no excuses for his weakness, nor did he show any shame. "Miss Anderson--" he began. "Please call me Lenore. I feel so--so stiff when you are formal. My friends call me Lenore," she said. "You mean--you consider me your friend?" he queried. "Indeed I do," she replied, smiling. "I--I'm afraid I misunderstood your asking me to visit you," he said. "I thank you. I'm proud and glad that you call me your friend. It will be splendid to remember--when I am over there." "I wonder if we could talk of anything except trouble and war," replied Lenore, plaintively. "If we can't, then let's look at the bright side." "Is there a bright side?" he asked, with his sad smile. "Every cloud, you know.... For instance, if you go to war--" "Not if. I _am_ going," he interrupted. "Oh, so you say," returned Lenore, softly. And she felt deep in her the inception of a tremendous feminine antagonism. It stirred along her pulse. "Have your own way, then. But _I_ say, _if_ you go, think how fine it will be for me to get letters from you at the front--and to write you!" "You'd like to hear from me?... You would answer?" he asked, breathlessly. "Assuredly. And I'll knit socks for you." "You're--very good," he said, with strong feeling. Lenore again saw his eyes dim. How strangely sensitive he was! If he exaggerated such a little kindness as she had suggested, if he responded to it with such emotion, what would he do when the great and marvelous truth of her love was flung in his face? The very thought made Lenore weak. "You'll go to training-camp," went on Lenore, "and because of your wonderful physique and your intelligence you will get a commission. Then you'll go to--France." Lenore faltered a little in her imagined prospect. "You'll be in the thick of the great battles. You'll give and take. You'll kill some of those--those--Germans. You'll be wounded and you'll be promoted.... Then the Allies will win. Uncle Sam's grand army will have saved the world.... Glorious!... You'll come back--home to us--to take the place dad offered you.... There! that is the bright side." Indeed, the brightness seemed reflected in Dorn's face.