me--up--"

"Oh."

"And he is not the Prince, Daddy. There isn't any Prince."

She had shut resolutely away from her the vision of Derry Drake as she
had seen him on the night of Cinderella. She would have no
white-feathered knight! Princes were brave and rode to battle!

CHAPTER VI

THE PROMISE

It was Alma who gave Derry Drake the key to Jean's conduct.

"Did your ears burn?" she asked, as they danced together after Jean and
her father had gone.

"When?"

"We were talking about you at dinner."

"I hope you said nice things."

"I did, of course." Her lashes flashed up and fluttered down as they
had flashed and fluttered for Ralph. Every man was for Alma a possible
conquest. Derry was big game, and as yet her little darts had not
pierced him. She still hoped, however. "I did, but the rest didn't."

He shrank from the things which she might tell him. "What did they
say?" His voice caught.

"I shan't tell you. But it was about the war, and your not fighting.
As if it made any difference. You are as brave as any of them."

He glanced down at her with somber eyes. Quite unreasonably he hated
her for her defense of him. If all women defended men who wouldn't
fight, what kind of a world would it be? Women who were worth anything
girded their men for battle.

He knew now the reason for Jean's high head and burning cheeks, and in
spite of his sense of agonizing humiliation, he was glad to think of
that high-held head.

For such women, for such women men died!

But not for women like Alma Drew!

He got away from her as soon as possible. He got away from them all.
He had a morbid sense of whispering voices and of averted glances. He
fancied that Mrs. Witherspoon touched his hand coldly as he bade her
"good-night."

Well, he would not come again until he could meet their eyes.

It was a perfectly clear night, and he walked home. With his face
turned up to the stars, he told himself that the situation was
intolerable--tomorrow morning, he would go to his father.

When he reached home, his father was asleep. Derry looked in on him
and found Bronson sitting erect and wide-eyed beside a night lamp which
threw the rest of the room into a sort of golden darkness. The General
was in a great lacquered bed which he had brought with him years ago
from China. Gilded dragons guarded it and princes had slept in it.
Heavy breathing came from the bed.

"I think he has caught cold, sir," Bro