democracy."

That was something to say of a woman. Doctor McKenzie wondered if it
could be said of his own daughter. Set side by side with Drusilla,
Jean seemed a childish creature, unstable, swayed by the emotion of the
moment. Yet her fire matched Drusilla's, her dreams outran Drusilla's
dreams.

Two officers passed the table.

"How any man can keep out of it," Drusilla said. "Some day I shall put
on a uniform and pass for a boy--"

"Why not go over as you are?"

"They won't let me now. But some day they will. I can drive a
car--there ought to be a place for me."

"There is one for me," he said, "and my decision must be made tonight.
They are asking me to head a hospital staff in France. A letter came
this morning, and I've got to answer it."

Her eyes went to the flame-white maiden on the other side of the table.
"What does Jean say?"

"I haven't asked her. She wouldn't keep me back. But I am all she
has, and it would hurt."

"It would hurt. But you are not all that she has--you might as well
try to sweep back the sea as to stop what is going on over there. I