"Oh, every rule has to have its exception," he answered lightly, her recognition of his purpose obviously pleasing him. "I have ambitions, but no American need be ashamed to admit that. I intend to make my mark on the world instead of letting the jolly old world make its mark on me. Success never comes haphazard, so I plan everything out. Not so complicated, is it?"

III

Mr. Stewart's listening caller had received his fill of Florentine art and departed, so Lola's father joined the group of young people in time to hear Treadway's explanation.

"That is a good basis for any American to work on," Stewart commented; "but I don't quite agree with you about not letting the world make its mark on you. They talk about Americans being born. That isn't so, . . Americanism is a thing to be achieved . .

"By action," Treadway interrupted with confidence. "Not wholly," Mr. Stewart corrected. "That is where I think your theory a bit weak. True Americanism is a thing of the mind, . . the result of thought And when one has

and experience as well as of action. really achieved Americanism he need not fear to have the world make its mark on him, for it will be the hallmark of approval."

"That's fine, Mr. Stewart!" Richard exclaimed. "I wish we could hear you talk on these subjects oftener. What you say always gives us an inspiration." "Scarcely that," Stewart demurred; "but I do think

I am at fault to spend my life assimilating instead of giving out. It is a selfish habit."

"My daddy selfish!" Lola cried affectionately, pressing his hand to her cheek. "Why, I never could think of you as one to go out into the mercenary world. You seem to belong right here in this frame. There are plenty of men for business, and who shall say that your dreaming or your life among your books is selfish? You share your dreams with us all, daddy, and that helps to keep us true to our ideals."

"Ah, child," her father answered, kissing her, "you and your mother spoil me. Dreams and books!

"Dreams, books, are each a world: and books we know, Are a substantial world, both pure and good.

Round these, with tendrils strong as flesh and blood, Our pastime and our happiness will grow.'"

As the older man left them, Treadway rose.

"I thought at first he was complimenting me, but I really believe he was calling me down," he said half jocosely and half in pique. "I must jog along now and think it all over . . . Coming, Dick?”

"Not yet," Richard answered; "don't wait for me."

IV

"Why don't you like Billy Treadway?" Lola demanded when they were alone.

"What makes you think I don't like him?”

Lola laughed.

"You bristle all over whenever you're with him. Why do you dislike him?”

"If I have myself so poorly under control as to expose my feelings to the world," he replied, "I must cultivate restraint."

“I am not ‘the world,' Dick. Perhaps I understand your expressions better than some others."

"You are all the world to me, Lola," he cried impulsively, at the same time drawing his chair beside hers and taking her hand. "There is no one else who understands me at all... Do you know, Lola, if you were to look at me just once as you did at your father a moment ago, I'd believe there was some chance of wedding bells."

"You silly boy!" Lola scolded. "We aren't children any longer. You don't want merely an emotional sweetheart, do you?"

"You weren't so terribly matter-of-fact before I went to France."

"We were scarcely more than children, Dick. Then I was inexperienced enough to believe that love . . . our love, was everything; now we know how little one's personal affairs count in the scheme of things, don't we?"

She paused for a moment and looked away from him. Then she turned back.

"What a revelation we have had since, Dick!" she exclaimed. "We were boy and girl before,. . now we're just relics of the war, looking at the world through the empty rims of our spectacles, without the rosetinted glass. I haven't the desire to be petted or kissed that I had before,. I admit it; but oh, Dick, I love you a thousand times more!"

"Then why don't you marry me?" he demanded for the hundredth time.

"Because now I couldn't be satised with the Dick you were before you went to France any more than you could be content with the aimless, heartsick girl you left behind. Each of us requires more, and each can give more to the other. I am trying to make myself the woman you ought to marry; you must make yourself the man my husband must be if he is to hold my love." "Then I have slipped . . ."

"Don't be hurt, dear. . . You haven't slipped, but you don't seem to feel the necessity of forcing the world about you to recognize what your development has taught you Don't let what I say discourage you

When you spoke about your vision, you uncovered something which is very precious to me. Turn that vision into reality, Dick!"

"But how?"

"Ah! That is the test... but you can meet it! Daddy would tell you that a real prophet must have voice as well as vision. You have the vision, Dick, and the voice will come to you. I don't ask it for myself, or for you, but for those whom we are pledged to serve. While you are translating your ideals into action, I have as much to accomplish for myself and with myself. Can't you see, dear! Until we both have proved ourselves true to what the war taught us, we have not earned the right to think of ourselves."

"I try to be patient, Lola," he answered still unconvinced; "but I can't see why we couldn't do all that you say far better together than alone."

"We first must prove that we can do it alone, dear, as a guarantee that we can do it together. Something has been given to you that has been denied to others. The opportunity is here. The light cast by your vision, Dick, shows you the hitherto concealed entrance from the outside of the world to its very core. Other men,

who came home from France with the spirit but without the power of expressing it, call upon you to lead them. It is a call, Dick, that you can't ignore.”

The girl was fired by her enthusiasm, and Richard looked at her in sincere admiration. Her appeal was irresistible, her words brought back the thrill he experienced at Toul when the veil was for the moment lifted, and he saw beyond. Yes, Lola had changed. Yet could he question her love? She had just expressed in him unbounded faith, and faith surely is akin to love. It was such a moment as comes but rarely, and it affected him deeply.

"There was only one Jeanne d'Arc, Lola," he said feelingly; "but her spirit has been bequeathed to you. I could not resist it even if I wanted to. It is not a question of desire, but of ability. I will try to hold fast, but I fear that you demand more than I have in me."

Lola's face lighted with pleasure.

"Let me be judge of that! If you really try, you cannot fail. Now kiss me, Dick, not merely as lovers. kiss, but in pledge of mutual service to the world which will entitle us later to our own personal reward."

Protected by the dusk into which the lengthened shadows merged, he held her a prisoner in arms which