be. Jollier than ever he was. I took him out
in the dear old two-seater and he insisted on driving to show how they
drove at the Front--and it's only because the Almighty must have kept
a special eye on a Dean's daughter that I'm here to tell the tale."

"You saw a lot of him, I suppose?" said Doggie.

A flush rose on Peggy's cheek. "Of course. He was staying at the
Deanery most of his time. I wrote to you about it. I've made a point
of telling you everything. I even told you about the two-seater."

"So you did," said Doggie. "I remember." He smiled. "Your description
made me laugh. Oliver's a major now, isn't he?"

"Yes. And just before he got his majority they gave him the Military
Cross."

"He must be an awful swell," said Doggie.

She replied with some heat. "He hasn't changed the least little bit in
the world."

Doggie shook his head. "No one can go through it, really go through
it, and come back the same."

"You don't insinuate that Oliver hasn't really gone through it?"

"Of course not, Peggy dear. They don't throw M.C.'s about like Iron
Crosses. In order to get it Oliver must have looked into the jaws of
hell. They all do. But no man is the same afterwards. Oliver has what
the French call _panache_----"

"What's _panache_?"

"The real heroic swagger--something spiritual about it. Oliver's not
going to let you notice the change in him."

"We went to the Alhambra, and he laughed as if such a thing as war had
never been heard of."

"Naturally," said Doggie. "All that's part of the _panache_."

"You're talking through your hat, Marmaduke," she exclaimed with some
irritation. "Oliver's a straight, clean, English soldier."

"I've been doing my best to tell you so," said Doggie.

"But you seem to be criticizing him because he's concealing something
behind what you call his _panache_."

"Not criticizing, dear. Only stating. I think I'm more Oliverian than
you."

"I'm not Oliverian," cried Peggy, with burning cheeks. "And I don't
see why we should discuss him like this. All I said was that Oliver,
who has made himself a distinguished man and will be even more
distinguished, and, at any rate, knows what he's talking about,
doesn't worry his head with social reconstruction and all that sort of
rot. I've come here to talk about you, not about Oliver. Let us leave
him out of the question."

"Willingly," said Doggie. "I never had any reason to love Oliver; but
I must do him justice. I only wanted to s