fell. It was not difficult to make the opportunity, for he was now a frequent caller at the Stewart house, which really was more a home to him than his own. He and Mr. Stewart saw much of each other, both from their mutual business interests, and because of the friendship which had developed between them. Maturity and experience contributed much in tempering the dynamic energy and optimism of youth; courage and ignorance of defeat introduced a new and welcome feature to a life which had considered itself fixed in its middle-age rigidity, now becoming flexible.

Richard had promised to let Lola help in the working out of his plans, and he undoubtedly felt that he had done so. The girl, however, came to realize that the early confidences were made to her because at that time there was no one else with whom he could talk freely. When later he was thrown more with men of affairs, the necessity of Lola's comprehending sympathy disappeared, and what she learned now of his work and plans came from listening to conversations between him and her father. She was disappointed, but she understood, and no word was ever spoken to express her unfulfilled expectations.

One evening, after the usual quiet family discussion, in which Mr. and Mrs. Stewart were a part, the two young people were left alone, and Lola seized her opportunity.

"The new scheme is working out more rapidly than you expected, isn't it, Dick?"

"Indeed it is," he replied with enthusiasm.

"The

results are proving so beneficial to both sides that they

are unanswerable arguments. As far as our plant is concerned, my hardest work is over; and as for spreading the gospel of good will in industry, we are already flooded by inquiries from big organizations all over the country. Instead of going out into the world to preach it, I can point to actual performance; instead of arguing on the basis of theory, I can show how practical it is in operation."

"Then it won't be necessary after all for you to sacrifice your whole life to your ideals, will it?”

Richard looked at her questioningly. Then he thought he understood. Smiling, he took her hand in his.

"I must have seemed selfish to you these months, dear, but I really felt it necessary to forget everything but that great common cause we both believe in. Perhaps I seemed more selfish than I really was, because I knew you understood. But we have gained our first objective now, Lola dear, without any casualties, and we can be ourselves again. You have never doubted, . . have you? .. that that my love for you was stronger than everything else except my duty to translate my vision and my experience into something real?"

"No, Dick," she answered frankly. "I have never doubted that; but I'm not quite so sure that there have been no casualties."

He looked at her surprised.

"But you have understood?"

"Yes," Lola replied deliberately; "I have understood, .. better, I fear than you. How about Olga?"

Richard's face sobered.

"Surely you could never be jealous of her! That wouldn't be like you. I've never . ."

"Not jealous, Dick. You might break my heart, but you could never make me jealous. There are some things you haven't sensed because you have been so engrossed with your work. she is suffering more than you have any right to let her suffer."

Olga loves you, Dick, and

For a moment he looked at her with an expression Lola had never before seen. She expected him to insist again that she was wrong, but this time there was no such protest. Instead, he rose and went to the window, looking out into the darkness. What he saw was a pair of great brown eyes, glistening from unshed tears, lips which quivered as they bravely smiled. What he heard was not Lola's words, but a voice struggling to conceal the love which found expression in every accent, crying, "Oh, Richard, . . you must go! I cannot stand it any longer!"

At last he turned.

"You are right, Lola," he acknowledged, to her surprise. "I realize it now, but my knowledge has come late, Heaven knows! I did look upon her as a child. Even when I first noticed that her affection for me seemed to ask for possession, I thought it nothing more than a child's desire for a new toy. Since I unexpectedly discovered the real situation I have thought of little else, for I care for her a great deal, and I am eternally grateful. I have told her frankly . . . almost brutally

that I do not love her. She is wounded. . . naturally, and I blame myself for my stupidity. There

is so little one can do. For one thing, I mean to give her every opportunity to make something of herself, but that doesn't take away her present pain. Yet what more can I do?"

"Of course, I am looking at it from a woman's standpoint," Lola replied. "Perhaps that is all you can do,

perhaps it is more than you ought to do . . . but I'm wondering if we are holding true to the creed you and I boast. You have accepted everything, and given nothing in return. We must be true to our creed, no matter what the cost. Don't you think so?"

"Are you suggesting that I ought to marry Olga?” "I'm not sure I am groping in the dark... I'm asking you."

Richard rose again and walked slowly about the room as he always did when deeply affected. Lola watched him with a look in her eyes which, had he seen, would have made his question unnecessary.

"Does this mean that you no longer care for me?" "I don't believe that enters into the question, dear," she answered with more feeling than she had allowed herself to show. "You were speaking of the casualties in attaining your objective. It may be that I am one of these, it may be that it is Olga. I'm not making any statement, Dick; I'm just placing the matter squarely before you. Your final judgment will be right."

He returned to the chair where Lola was sitting and seated himself upon the arm. All resentment had disappeared, for he realized how much in earnest she was. Knowing her as he did, he could but admire the

courage and the sacrifice which lay behind her words. As he looked at her, she seemed the embodiment of that spirit which was the single worth-while product of the war. In France, she would have sacrificed herself willingly for her ideal; tonight she was no less willing. There remained no question in his mind of her love for him, . . and in his own heart he discovered a longing for her which was beyond anything which had come into his life. He was conscious of the thought that had this overpowering love possessed him earlier, he might not have been strong enough to put it aside even for the great common cause.

"Lola," he said quietly, but with such intensity in his voice that there could be no misunderstanding him, "you are wonderful! I have always loved you. I have never had a place in my heart for any one else; but until now I have not known how much you really meant to me. You and I have been through experiences which would never have come to us except with the whole world upside down. I thought I had kept on my feet better than most people, but I, too, have been affected by the madness. You have been steadfast, you have been true to every ideal. When I wavered, you steadied me, . . and I thought it my own strength! What place can you have in your life for one who assumed attributes to which he had no shadow of a claim?”

"Oh, Dick!" she cried; "you make it so hard for me! Whatever the cost may be to us, we must think of Olga, who has had nothing but sacrifice in her life. You gave her a new horizon. You made life for her something beyond anything she knew or craved before. We must be