he had
really loved her he would not have failed, Jean said.

"I think he loved her," was Derry's opinion; "the spirit was willing,
but the flesh was weak."

Jean shrugged. "Well, Fate was kind to him--to give him another
chance. Oh, Daddy, tell him the story the little French woman told at
the meeting of the Medical Association."

"You should have heard her tell it--but I'll do my best. Her eloquence
brought us to our feet. It was when she was in Paris--just after the
American forces arrived. She stopped at the curb one morning to buy
violets of an ancient dame. She found the old flower vendor
inattentive and, looking for the cause, she saw across the street a
young American trooper loitering at a corner. Suddenly the old woman
snatched up a bunch of lilies, ran across the street, thrust them into
the hands of the astonished soldier. 'Take them, American,' she said.
'Take the lilies of France and plant them in Berlin.'"

"Isn't that wonderful?" Jean breathed.

"Everything is wonderful to her," the Doctor told Derry, "she lives on
the heights."

"But the lilies of France, Daddy--! Can't you see our men and the
lilies of France?"

Derry saw them, indeed,--a glorious company--!

"Oh, if I were a man," Jean said, and stopped. She stole a timid
glance at him. The question that he had dreaded was in her eyes.

They fell into silence. Jean finished her parfait. Derry's was
untouched.

Then the music brought them again to their feet, and they danced. The
Doctor smoked alone. Back of him somebody murmured, "It is Derry
Drake."

"Confounded slacker," said a masculine voice. Then came a warning
"Hush," as Derry and Jean returned.

"It is snowing," Derry told the Doctor. "I have ordered my car."

Late that night when the Doctor rode forth again alone in his own car
on an errand of mercy, he thought of the thing which he had heard.
Then came the inevitable question: why wasn't Derry Drake fighting?

CHAPTER V

THE SLACKER

It was at the Witherspoon dinner that Jean McKenzie first heard the
things that were being said about Derry.

"I can't understand," someone had remarked, "why Derry Drake is staying
out of it."

"I fancy he'll be getting in," Ralph Witherspoon had said. "Derry's no
slacker."

Ralph could afford to be generous. He was in the Naval Flying Corps.
He looked extremely well in his Ensign's uniform, and he knew it; he
was hoping, in the spring, for active service on t