d alive," she replied, passionately.

The bald speech struck Lane forcibly. All at once he remembered Bessy
Bell and his former interest. She was a type of the heretofore
inexplicable modern girl. Lane looked at her, seeing her suddenly with
a clearer vision. Bessy Bell had a physical perfection, a loveliness
that needed neither spirit nor animation. But life had given this girl
so much more than beauty. A softness of light seemed to shine round
her golden head; smiles played in secret behind her red lips ready to
break forth, and there was a haunting hint of a dimple in her round
cheek; on her lay the sweetness of youth subtly dawning into
womanhood; the flashing eyes were keen with intellect, with fire, full
of promise and mystic charm; and her beautiful, supple body, so
plainly visible, seemed quivering with sheer, restless joy of movement
and feeling. A trace of artificial color on her face and the
indelicacy of her dress but slightly counteracted Lane's first
impression.

"You promised to call me up and make a date," she said, and sat down
close to him.

"Yes. I meant it too. But Bessy, I was ill, and then I forgot. You
didn't miss much."

"Hot dog! Hear the man. Daren, I'd throw the whole bunch down to be
with you," she exclaimed.

At the end of that speech she paled slightly and her breath came
quickly. She looked bold, provocative, expectant, yet sincere. Child
or woman, she had to be taken seriously. Here indeed was the mystery
that had baffled Lane. He realized his opportunity, like a flash all
his former thought and conjecture about this girl returned to him.

"You would. Well, I'm highly flattered. Why, may I ask?"

"Because I've fallen for you," she replied, leaning close to him.
"That's the main reason, I guess.... But another is, I want you to
tell me all about yourself--in the war, you know."

"I'd be glad to--if we get to be real friends," he said, thoughtfully.
"I don't understand you."

"And I'll say I don't just get you," she retorted. "What do you want?
Have you forgotten the silver platter?"

She turned away with a restless quivering. She had shown no shyness.
She was bold, intense, absolutely without fear; and however
stimulating or attractive the situation evidently was, it was neither
new nor novel to her. Some strange leaven worked deep in her. Lane
could put no other interpretation on her words and actions than that
she expected him to kiss her.

"Bessy Bell, look at me," said L