coat around her, and sped silently down the stairs. She shrank back as
she opened the front door. The sleet rattled on the steps, the
pavements were covered with white.

The mail-box was in front of the house. She made a rush for it,
dropped in the precious letter, and gained once more the haven of the
warm hall.

She was glad to get back to her room. As she settled down among her
pillows, she had a great sense of adventure, as if she had travelled
far in a few moments.

As a matter of fact, she had made her first real excursion into the
land of romance. She found her thoughts galloping.

At the foot of the bed her silver Persian, Polly Ann, lay curled on her
own gray blanket.

"Polly Ann," Jean said, "if he doesn't come, I shall hate myself for
writing that note."

Polly Ann surveyed her sleepily.

"But it would serve me right if he didn't, Polly Ann."

She turned off the light and tried to sleep. Downstairs the telephone
rang. It rang, too, in Hilda's room. Hilda's door opened and shut.
She came across the hall and tapped on Jean's door. "May I come in?"

"Yes."

"Your father has just telephoned," Hilda said from the threshold, "that
General Drake's nurse is not well, and will have to be taken off the
case. I shall have to go in her place. There is a great shortage at
the hospital. Will you be afraid to stay alone, or shall I wake up
Ellen and have her sleep on the couch in your dressing room?"

"Of course I am not afraid, Hilda. Nothing can happen until father
comes back."

As Hilda went away, Jean had a delicious feeling of detachment. She
would be alone in the house with her thoughts of Derry.

She got out of bed to say her prayers. With something of a thrill she
prayed for Derry's father. She was not conscious as she made her
petitions of any ulterior motive. Yet a placated Providence would, she
felt sure, see that the General's sickness should not frustrate the
plans which she had quite daringly made for his son.

CHAPTER VIII

THE SHADOWED ROOM

Derry had dined that night with his cousin, Margaret Morgan.
Margaret's husband was somewhere in France with Pershing's divisions.
Margaret was to have news of him this evening, brought by a young
English officer, Dawson Hewes, who had been wounded at Ypres, and who
had come on a recruiting mission, among his countrymen in America.

The only other guest was to be Drusilla Gray.

Derry had gone over early to have the twilig