extraordinary about him, then?""Not a thing, except his niceness."But they were surfeited with nice young men. They wanted something dramatic, and Willy Cameron was essentially undramatic. Besides, it was quite plain that, with unconscious cruelty, his physical handicap made him unacceptable to them."Don't be ridiculous, Lily. You're hiding someone behind this kind person. You must have met somebody worthwhile.""Not in the camp. I know a perfectly nice Socialist, but he was not in the army. Not a Socialist, really. Much worse. He believes in having a revolution."That stirred them somewhat. She saw their interested faces turned toward her."With a bomb under his coat, of course, Lily.""He didn't bulge.""Good-looking?""Well, rather.""How old is he, Lily?" one of them asked, suspiciously."Almost fifty, I should say.""Good heavens!"Their interest died. She could have revived it, she knew, if she mentioned Louis Akers; he would have answered to their prime requisite in an interesting man. He was both handsome and young. But she felt curiously disinclined to mention him.The party broke up. By ones and twos luxuriously dressed little figures went down the great staircase, where Grayson stood in the hall and the footman on the doorstep signaled to the waiting cars. Mademoiselle, watching from a point of vantage in the upper hall, felt a sense of comfort and well-being after they had all gone. This was as it should be. Lily would take up life again where she had left it off, and all would be well.It was now the sixth day, and she had not yet carried out that absurd idea of asking Ellen's friend to dinner.Lily was, however, at that exact moment in the process of carrying it out."Telephone for you, Mr. Cameron.""Thanks. Coming," sang out Willy Cameron.Edith Boyd sauntered toward his doorway."It's a lady.""Woman," corrected Willy Cameron. "The word 'lady' is now obsolete, since your sex has entered the economic world." He put on his coat."I said 'lady' and that's what I mean," said Edith. "'May I speak to Mr. Cameron?'" she mimicked. "Regular Newport accent."Suddenly Willy Cameron went rather pale. If it should be Lily Cardew--but then of course it wouldn't be. She had been home for six days, and if she had meant to call--"Hello," he said.It was Lily. Something that had been like a band around his heart suddenly loosened, to fasten about his throat. His voice sounded strangled and strange."Why, yes," he said, in the unfamiliar voice. "I'd like to come, of course."Edith Boyd watched and listened, with a slightly strained look in her eyes."To dinner? But--I don't think I'd better come to dinner.""Why not, Willy?"Mr. William Wallace Cameron glanced around. There was no one about save Miss Boyd, who was polishing the nails of one hand on the palm of the other."May 

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