the DAILY REPUBLIC. Miss Page had brought the paper to the
table and, with affected indignation at the impertinence of the press,
had pointed at the front-page photograph; but Miss Flagg was not looking
at the photograph, or drinking her tea, or showing in her immediate
surroundings any interest whatsoever. Instead, her lovely eyes were
fastened with fascination upon the column under the heading "The Red
Cross Girl"; and, as she read, the lovely eyes lost all trace of recent
slumber, her lovely lips parted breathlessly, and on her lovely cheeks
the color flowed and faded and glowed and bloomed. When she had read
as far as a paragraph beginning, "When Sister Anne walked between them
those who suffered raised their eyes to hers as flowers lift their faces
to the rain," she dropped the paper and started for telephone.

"Any man," cried she, to the mutual discomfort of Helen Page and the
servants, "who thinks I'm like that mustn't get away! I'm not like that
and I know it; but if he thinks so that's all I want. And maybe I might
be like that--if any man would help."

She gave her attention to the telephone and "Information." She demanded
to be instantly put into communication with the DAILY REPUBLIC and Mr.
Sam Ward. She turned again upon Helen Page.

"I'm tired of being called a good sport," she protested, "by men who
aren't half so good sports as I am. I'm tired of being talked to about
money--as though I were a stock-broker. This man's got a head on
his shoulders, and he's got the shoulders too; and he's got a darned
good-looking head; and he thinks I'm a ministering angel and a saint;
and he put me up on a pedestal and made me dizzy--and I like being made
dizzy; and I'm for him! And I'm going after him!"

"Be still!" implored Helen Page. "Any one might think you meant it!" She
nodded violently at the discreet backs of the men-servants.

"Ye gods, Parker!" cried Anita Flagg. "Does it take three of you to pour
a cup of tea? Get out of here, and tell everybody that you all three
caught me in the act of proposing to an American gentleman over the
telephone and that the betting is even that I'll make him marry me!"

The faithful and sorely tried domestics fled toward the door. "And
what's more," Anita hurled after them, "get your bets down quick, for
after I meet him the odds will be a hundred to one!"

Had the REPUBLIC been an afternoon paper, Sam might have been at the
office and might have gone to the telephone,