he regarded himself as a free man, and after the habit of
free men was about to put on new chains. It was humiliating, to say the
least. During the war the engagement had seemed quite natural, quite a
part of things. All the young people were engaged--except those who were
married.

"That, at least, I had sense enough not to do!" raged Polly, as she
narrowly missed a pedestrian's heel.

It is hard for older people to realize how important it is at twenty-three
to be doing exactly what others are doing; the absolute anguish of being
the only man in the A. E. F. without a wife or sweetheart, or the only
girl at home without a soldier husband or lover. A bit of such
understanding would make clear not only the number of divorces and broken
engagements which resulted from the war and had their share in the
production of the unrest of the times, but would also elucidate a good
many other happenings to youth.

So much for Polly Street and Joyce Henderson, who were fortunate enough to
find out before marriage that they were unsuited for each other. Polly,
however, preferred to look upon the dark side. Joyce had behaved like a
cad.

"And the worst of it is that everybody will say it serves me right," she
went on to herself, "just because I've flirted a bit here and there. It's
not my fault if people never turn out as I expect them to. I guess I'm
like Grandfather Street was in his religion. He thought the Baptists were
wonderful until he joined them and then the Presbyterians looked more
interesting to him. After he'd been with them a while he couldn't see how
anybody could be a Presbyterian, so he joined the Unitarians. People
thought he was a turncoat, but he wasn't--he was just a sort of religious
Mormon. One church wasn't enough for him.

"Oh dear, I wish I'd gone to Douglas alone! Bob would understand. I
believe I'll go to Athens. Why not? It's safe enough or Emma's parents
wouldn't let her go. Of course it's a bit soon after their wedding, but
I'll be tactful and keep out of their way."

The light of determination was in Polly's dark eyes. They were big lovely
eyes that looked at you wistfully from under arched brows. They seldom
laughed or twinkled and the nose that kept them company was equally
sedate, being purely aquiline, but a mouth with dimpled corners upset the
scheme entirely, while ripples of golden brown hair completed the picture
of a healthy, happy youngster--not radiantly beautiful but what people
like