n't because he
wants the honor of it that he has gone back, but because the
responsibility rests upon him to make the community all that it ought to
be. And he can't shirk it."

"Eve Chesley says that he is tied to his mother's apron strings."

"She doesn't understand, I do. I sometimes feel that way about the
Crossroads school--as if I had shirked something to have--a good time."

"But you have had a good time."

"Yes, you have all been wonderful to me," her smile warmed him, "but you
won't think that I am ungrateful when I say that there was something in
my life in the little school which carried me--higher--than this."

"Higher? What do you mean?"

"I was a leader down there. And a force. The children looked to me for
something that I could give and which the teacher they have isn't giving.
She just teaches books, and I tried to teach them something of life, and
love of country, and love of God."

"But here you have Marie-Louise, and you know how grateful we are for
what you have done for her."

"I have only developed what was in her. What a flaming little genius she
is!"

"With a poem accepted by an important magazine, and Fox believing that
she can write more of them."

Anne spoke quietly: "And now I am really not needed. Marie-Louise can go
on alone."

He stopped her. "We want you to stay--my wife wants you--Marie-Louise
can't do without you. And I want you to get Brooks back."

She looked her amazement. "Get him back?"

"He will come if you ask it. I am not blind. Eve Chesley is. The things
she says make him stubborn. But you could call him back. You could call
to life anything in any man if you willed it. You are inspirational--a
star to light the way."

His voice was shaken. After a pause he went on: "Will you help me to get
Brooks back?"

She shook her head. "I shall not try. He is among his own people. He has
found his place."

Yet now that Richard was gone, Anne found herself missing him more than
she dared admit. She was, for the first time, aware that the knowledge
that she should see him now and then had kept her from loneliness which
might otherwise have assailed her. The thought that she might meet him
had added zest to her engagements. His week-ends at Rose Acres had been
the goal toward which her thoughts had raced.

And now the great house was empty because of his absence. The city was
empty--because he had left it--forever. She had no hope that he would
come back. Crossroads h