him to stay where
he was, even in uniform. The danger was two-fold. In a moment of
weakness he would probably shoot Conward, and in a moment of weakness
she would probably disclose her love. And if Dave should ever marry
her he must win her first.

"You had better go overseas and enlist in England," she told him
calmly, although her nails were biting her palms. "You will get
quicker action that way. And when you come back you must see Irene,
and you must learn from your own heart whether you really loved her or
not. And if you find you did not, then--then you will be free
to--to--to think of some other woman."

"I am afraid I shall never care to think of any other woman," he
answered. "Except you. But some way you're different. I don't think
of you as a woman, you know; not really, in a way. I can't explain it,
Edith, but you're something more--something better than all that."

"I assure you I am very much a woman--"

But he had sprung to his feet. "Edith, I can never thank you enough
for what you have said to me to-night. You have put some spirit back
into my body. I am going to follow your advice. There's a train east
in two hours and I'm going on it. Fortunately my property, or most of
it, has dissolved the way it came. I must pack a few things, and have
a bath and shave and dress."

She moved toward him with extended hand. "Good-bye, Dave," she said.

He held her hand fast in his. "Good-bye, Edith. I can never forget--I
can never repay--all you have been. It may sound foolish to you after
all I have said, but I sometimes wonder if--if I had not met
Irene--if----" He paused and went hot with embarrassment. What would
she think of him? An hour ago he had been ready to kill or be killed
in grief over his frustrated love, and already he was practically
making love to her. Had he brought her to his rooms for this? What a
hypocrite he was!

"Forgive me, Edith," he said, as he released her. "I am not quite
myself. . . . I hold you in very high respect as one of God's good
women. Good-bye."

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

When Irene Hardy pursued Dave from the house the roar of his motor car
was already drowned in the hum of the city streets. Hatless she ran
the length of a full block; then, realizing the futility of such a
chase, returned with almost equal haste to her home. She burst in and
discovered Conward holding a bottle of smelling salts to the nose of
her mother, who had suffic