s.... He died in Washington, D.C.
Fell down in the vestibule of one of the government offices--where he
was waiting.... fell with another hemorrhage--and died right there--on
the floor--quick."

"My--God!" gasped Lane.

"Yes, it's tough. You see, Dare, I couldn't keep Reddie here. Heaven
knows I tried, but he wouldn't stay.... I'm afraid he heard my mother
complaining. Say, Dare, suppose I have somebody drive me in town to
see you."

"I'd like that, Blair."

"You're on. And say, I've another idea. Tonight's the Junior Prom--did
you know that?"

"No, I didn't."

"Well, it is. Suppose we go up? My sister can get me cards.... I tell
you, Dare, I'd like to see what's going on in that bunch. I've heard a
lot and seen some things."

"Did you hear how I mussed up Fanchon Smith's party?"

"You bet I did. That's one reason I want to see some of this dancing.
Will you go?"

"Yes, I can stand it if you can."

"All right, Buddy, I'll meet you at the inn--eight o'clock."

Lane slowly made his way to a secluded corner of the lobby, where he
sat down. Red Payson dead! Lane felt that he should not have been
surprised or shocked. But he was both. The strange, cold sensation
gradually wore away and with it the slight trembling of his limbs. A
mournful procession of thoughts and images returned to his mind and he
sat and brooded.

At the hour of his appointment with his friend, Lane went to the front
of the lobby. Blair was on time. He hobbled in, erect and martial of
bearing despite the crutch, and his dark citizen's suit emphasized the
whiteness of his face. Being home had softened Blair a little. Yet the
pride and tragic bitterness were there. But when Blair espied Lane a
warmth burned out of the havoc in his face. Lane's conscience gave him
a twinge. It dawned upon him that neither his spells of illness, nor
his distress over his sister Lorna, nor his obsession to see and
understand what the young people were doing could hold him wholly
excusable for having neglected his comrade.

Their hand-clasp was close, almost fierce, and neither spoke at once.
But they looked intently into each other's faces. Emotion stormed
Lane's heart. He realized that Blair loved him and that he loved
Blair--and that between them was a measureless bond, a something only
separation could make tangible. But little of what they felt came out
in their greetings.

"Dare, why the devil don't you can that uniform," demanded Blair,
cheerfully. "