n, and French women, should never set foot on American soil.

In the lamplight Lane saw this sister throw coat and hat on the
banister, come down the hall and enter the kitchen. She seemed tall,
but her short skirt counteracted that effect. Her bobbed hair, curly
and rebellious, of a rich brown-red color, framed a pretty face Lane
surely remembered. But yet not the same! He had carried away memory of
a child's face and this was a woman's. It was bright, piquant, with
darkly glancing eyes, and vivid cheeks, and carmine lips.

"Oh, _hot dog_! if it isn't Dare!" she squealed, and with radiant look
she ran into his arms.

The moment, or moments, of that meeting between brother and sister
passed, leaving Lane conscious of hearty welcome and a sense of
unreality. He could not at once adjust his mental faculties to an
incomprehensible difference affecting everything.

They sat down to supper, and Lane, sick, dazed, weak, found eating his
first meal at home as different as everything else from what he had
expected. There had been no lack of warmth or love in Lorna's welcome,
but he suffered disappointment. Again for the hundredth time he put
it aside and blamed his morbid condition. Nothing must inhibit his
gladness.

Lorna gave Lane no chance to question her. She was eager, voluble,
curious, and most disconcertingly oblivious of a possible
sensitiveness in Lane.

"Dare, you look like a dead one," she said. "Did you get shot,
bayoneted, gassed, shell-shocked and all the rest? Did you go over the
top? Did you kill any Germans? Gee! did you get to ride in a
war-plane? Come across, now, and tell me."

"I guess about--everything happened to me--except going west,"
returned Lane. "But I don't want to talk about that. I'm too glad to
be home."

"What's that on your breast?" she queried, suddenly, pointing at the
_Croix de Guerre_ he wore.

"That? Lorna, that's my medal."

"Gee! Let me see." She got up and came round to peer down closely, to
finger the decoration. "French! I never saw one before.... Daren,
haven't you an American medal too?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"My dear sister, that's hard to say. Because I didn't deserve it, most
likely."

She leaned back to gaze more thoughtfully at him.

"What did you get this for?"

"It's a long story. Some day I'll tell you."

"Are you proud of it?"

For answer he only smiled at her.

"It's so long since the war I've forgotten so many things," she said,
wonderingly. Th