“As if I were a rabbit,” she had complained afterwards to her father.  “When I marry a man I don’t want to be caught—­I want to run to him, with my arms wide open.”

“Don’t,” her father advised; “not many men would be able to stand it.  Let them worship you, Jeanie, don’t worship.”

Jean stuck her nose in the air.  “Falling in love doesn’t come the way you want it.  You have to take it as the good Lord sends it.”

“Who told you that?”

“Emily—­”

“What does Emily know of love?”

He had laughed and patted her hand.  He was cynical generally about romance.  He felt that his own perfect love affair with his wife had been the exception.  He looked upon Emily as a sentimental spinster who knew practically nothing of men and women.

He did not realize that Emily knew a great deal about dolls that laughed and cried when you pulled a string.  And that the world in Emily’s Toy Shop was not so very different from his own.

Alma, having turned a cold shoulder to Ralph, was still proclaiming her opinion of Derry Drake to the rest of the table.  “He is rich and young and he doesn’t want to die—­”

“There are plenty of rich young men dying, Alma,” said Mrs. Witherspoon, “and it is probably as easy for them as for the poor ones—­”

“The poor ones won’t mind being muddy and dirty in the trenches,” said Alma, “but I can’t fancy Derry Drake without two baths a day—­”

“I can’t quite fancy him a slacker.”  There was a hint of satisfaction in Mrs. Witherspoon’s voice.  Her son and Derry Drake had gone to school together and to college.  Derry had outdistanced Ralph in every way; but now it was Ralph who was leaving Derry far behind.

Jean wished that they would stop talking.  She felt as she might had she seen a soldier stripped of sword and stripes and shamed in the eyes of his fellows.

“Wasn’t he in the draft?” she asked Ralph.

“Too old.  He doesn’t look it, does he?  It’s a bit hard for the rest of us fellows to understand why he keeps out—­”

“Doesn’t he ever try to—­explain?”

Ralph shook his head.  “Not a word.  And he’s beginning to stay away from things.  You see, he knows that people are asking questions, and you hear what they are calling him?”

“Yes,” said Jean, “a coward.”

“Well, not exactly that—­”

“There isn’t much difference, is there?”

And now Alma’s cool voice summed up the situation.  “A man with as much money as that doesn’t have to be brave.  What does he care about public opinion?  After the war everybody will forgive and forget.”

Coolly she challenged them to contradict her.  “You all know it.  How many of you would dare cut the fellow who will inherit his father’s millions?”

Mrs. Witherspoon tried to laugh it off; but it was true, and Alma was right.  They might talk about Derry Drake behind his back, but they’d never omit sending a card to him.