age
is full of barbaric figures left over from the dark ages. But, oh,
Ramsey!"--she touched his sleeve--"I've heard that Fred Mitchell is
saying that he's going to Canada after Easter, to try to get into the
Canadian aviation corps. If it's true, he's a dangerous firebrand, I
think. Is it true?"

"I guess so. He's been talking that way some."

"But why do you _let_ him talk that way?" she cried. "He's your
roommate; surely you have more influence with him than anybody else has.
Couldn't you--"

He shook his head slowly, while upon his face the faintly indicated
modellings of a grin hinted of an inner laughter at some surreptitious
thought. "Well, you know, Fred says himself sometimes, I don't seem to
be much of a talker exactly!"

"I know. But don't you see? That sort of thing is contagious. Others
will think they ought to go if he does; he's popular and quite a leader.
Can't you do anything with him?"

She waited for him to answer. "Can't you?" she insisted.

The grin had disappeared, and Ramsey grew red again. He seemed to wish
to speak, to heave with speech that declined to be spoken and would not
rouse up from his inwards. Finally he uttered words.

"I--I--well, I--"

"Oh, I know," she said. "A man--or a boy!--always hates to be intruding
his own convictions upon other men, especially in a case like this,
where he might be afraid of some idiot's thinking him unmanlike. But
Ramsey--" Suddenly she broke off and looked at him attentively; his
discomfort had become so obvious that suspicion struck her. She spoke
sharply. "Ramsey _you_ aren't dreaming of doing such a thing, are you?"

"What such a thing?"

"Fred hasn't influenced _you_, has he? You aren't planning to go with
him, are you?"

"Where?"

"To join the Canadian aviation."

"No; I hadn't thought of doing it."

She sighed again, relieved. "I had a queer feeling about you just
then--that you _were_ thinking of doing some such thing. You looked so
odd--and you're always so quiet, anybody might not really know what you
do think. But I'm not wrong about you, am I, Ramsey?"

They had come to the foot of the steps that led up to the entrance of
her dormitory, and their walk was at an end. As they stopped and
faced each other, she looked at him earnestly; but he did not meet the
scrutiny, his eyelids fell.

"I'm not wrong, am I, Ramsey?"

"About what?" he murmured, uncomfortably.

"You are my friend, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Then it's all ri