ons, have anything on Marcia Terroll. In
brain and character and charm she has it over those female noncombatants
like a tent."

"I know all that, Miss Melliss." His reply was vaguely apologetic.

"Maybe you do, but I'm not through yet. She was cut to a delicate
pattern and meant for life's sunshine and God knows she's had plenty of
shadow. She's kept a smile on her lips and a laugh in her eyes through
things that would have crumpled up lots of those tender creatures you
know. You don't guess what it means to that sort of woman--well, to see
life from the angle we get on it, but Marcia knows. You came along and
she--" The young woman broke off in sudden silence.

"She what?" Anxiety sounded through his question.

"Oh, she never told me anything. It's not her fashion to tell such
things, but I have a pair of eyes myself. I figure that Marcia let
herself in for a danger she thought she had put behind her. She allowed
herself to have a dream." She paused and her gaze was almost accusing in
its directness. "From the look in her eyes before she went away I guess
she realized that it was a dream."

Miss Melliss had eyes of a brown softness, but just now they flashed
hard as agate and her voice rose to a scornful indignation.

"As if we haven't enough to handle with the facts of Life, without
hopeless dreams! I'm no anarchist railing at wealth and luxury ... but
you men that want everything ... and give nothing--" She broke off and
abruptly demanded, "Well, when you think about it, what do you call it
to yourselves?"

"Where is she?" demanded Paul.

"She's out with a dinky, barnstorming company, playing one-night
stands--on a route of tank-towns and whistling stations. It was all she
could get. She's making early-morning jumps between shabby hotels with a
bunch of cheap actors and cheaper actresses that are just about as
congenial to her as a herd of goats." The voice vibrated with sincere
feeling.

"Are you going to tell me where I can find her?"

The girl studied her cigarette, drew a puff upon it and exhaled a cloud
of smoke before she answered. Then she spoke reflectively.

"I'm just wondering whether I am or not. If you're going to follow her
up and make her dream again--only to wake up again, I certainly am not.
If you're going to be any comfort to her I am, because God knows she
needs some comfort. She is only going on her nerve."

"Please tell me," he urged very persuasively. At that moment it was in
his