-"

Marion smiled. "You've got it bad, Drusilla."

"If you think I am in love with him, I'm not. I'd like to be, but it
wouldn't be of any use. He's a Galahad--a pocket-edition Galahad. If
he ever falls in love, there'll be more of romance in it than I can
give him."

It was to this Drusilla that Derry had come. He liked her immensely.
And they had in common a great love of music.

She had tea for him, and some rather strange little spiced cakes on a
red lacquer tray. There was much dark blue and vivid red in the room,
with white woodwork. Drusilla herself was in unrelieved red. The
effect was startling but stimulating.

"I am not sure that I like it," she said, "the red and white and blue,
but I wanted to see whether I could do it. And Aunt Marion doesn't
care. The red things can all be taken out, and the rest toned down.
But I have a feeling that a man couldn't sit in this room and be a
slacker."

"No, he couldn't," Derry agreed. "You'd better hang out a recruiting
sign, Drusilla."

"I should if they would let me. The best I can do is ask them to tea
and sing for them."

It was right here that Bronson's message had broken in, and Derry,
coming back from the telephone, had said, "Sing for me."

Drusilla lighted two red candles on the piano in the alcove. She began
with a medley of patriotic songs. With her voice never soaring above a
repressed note, she managed to give the effect of culminating emotion,
so that when she reached a climax in the Marseillaise, Derry rose,
thrilled, to his feet.

She whirled around and faced him. "They all do that," she said, with a
glowing air Of triumph. "It's when I get them."

"Why did you give the Marseillaise last?"

"It has the tramp in it of marching men--I love it."

"But why not the 'Star Spangled Banner'?"

"That's for sacred moments. I hate to make it common--but I'll sing
it--now--"

Still standing, he listened. Drusilla held her voice to that low note,
but there was the crash of battle in the music that she made, the hush
of dawn, the cry of victory--

"Dear girl, you are a genius."

"No, I am not. But I can feel things--and I can make others feel--"

She rose and went to the window. "There's a new moon," she said, "come
and see--"

The curtains were not drawn, and the apartment was high up, so that
they looked out beyond the hills to a sky in which the daylight blue
had faded to a faint green, and saw the little moon and one star