"I was always thinking about you, Jean, and I have something here to
show how much you were in my mind."

Thrusting his right hand into the breast-pocket of his jacket, he
brought forth a little piece of wood. Removing a plug from one end, he
drew out a silver arrow-pin.

"This is a proof how much I was thinking of you. You little know how
eagerly I looked forward to the time when I would have the right to
present it to you."

"And did you really make this?" Jean asked, taking the arrow in her
hand and examining it most carefully. "I think it is wonderful."

"Yes, I made it myself," Dane replied, delighted at the girl's interest
and pleasure. "I worked it out of a silver coin my mother gave me
years ago, and which I valued most highly. For no one else would I
have done such a thing."

Dane's voice was a little husky as he spoke, and this Jean noticed.

"Your mother is dead, then?" she queried. She had often longed to ask
him about her, but owing to his reticence about his past life, she had
not done so. She had thought it strange, nevertheless, that he had
never mentioned his parents.

"My mother died five years ago," Dane explained. "Whatever I am I owe
to her. She was a noble woman."

"Is your father dead, too? Have you no home?"