ower. It "madded" the Almighty. You
might be struck.

"I won't," he said, the more merciful of her because she was on the
point of going. "And I won't go back with you."

"Will you come later?" she persisted, still tremulous.

"No," said Raven, "probably not. If I do, I'll let you know. And you
mustn't come up here without notifying me well in advance."

"That shows----" she began impulsively. "John, that isn't a normal thing
to say: to expect your own sister to notify you."

"All right," said Raven cheerfully. "Then I'm not normal. The funny part
of it is, I don't care whether I'm normal or not. I've got too many
other things to think of. Here's Charlotte with your brekky. Come on."

In the two hours before she went, he was, she told Dick afterward,
absolutely scintillating. She never knew John could be so brilliant. He
talked about things she never knew he had the slightest interest in:
theosophy and feminism and Americanization. She couldn't help wondering
whether he was trying to convince her of his mental soundness. But he
certainly was amazing. Dick received this in silence. He understood.

It was true. Raven did fill the time from a racing impetuosity, only
slackened when Jerry appeared with the pung. Then he hurried her into
her coat, kissed her warmly--and she had to comment inwardly that she
had never found John so affectionate--and, standing bareheaded to watch
her away, saluted her when she turned at the bend in the road. Then,
when the scene was empty of her, he plunged in, past Charlotte, standing
with hands rolled in her apron, snatched his cap, and hurried up the
road to Nan.

XXIV

Raven, relieved of his hindering Amelia, felt extraordinarily gay. He
went fast along the road, warm in the deepening sun, and saw Nan coming
toward him. He waved his cap and called to her:

"She's gone."

"Who?" Nan was coming on with her springing stride, and when she reached
him she looked keenly at him, adding: "What's happened to you, Rookie?"

Nothing had happened to her, he could see. She was always like a piece
cut out of the morning and fitted into any part of the day she happened
to be found in: always of a gallant spirit, always wholesome as apples,
always ready. This was not altogether youth. It was, besides, something
notable and particular which was Nan. He laughed out, she caught his
mood so deftly.

"Something has happened," he said. "First place, Milly's gone. Second,
I've found Old Cr