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Updated: May 26, 2025
The old conviction thrust itself upon him. He had been marked by fate, life, war, death! He knew it; he had only forgotten. "Daren! Daren!" Mel's voice broke the spell. Lane made a savage gesture, as if he were in the act of striking. Thought of Mel recalled the stingingly sweet and bitter fact of his love, and of life that called so imperiously.
Swann filled a glass half full, from the pitcher, and then, deliberately pulling a silver flask from his hip pocket he poured some of its dark red contents into the glass. Helen took it from him, and turned to Lane with a half-mocking glance. "Daren, I remember you never drank," she said. "Maybe the war made a man of you!... Will you have a sip of lemonade with a shot in it?"
They took him to the Iden home where he was severely ill during March. In April he began to improve, although he did not come to his senses. One day Mr. Iden brought Jacob Lane, an uncle of Lane's, to see him. Lane's uncle had been at odds with the family for many years. There had been a time when he had cared much for his nephew Daren.
"If you ask me I'll say Dare Lane ought to hand something to the men!" burst out Floss Dickerson, with fire in her eyes. "You said a mouthful, kiddo," responded Helen, with her narrow contracted gaze upon Margaret. "Daren gave me the once over and then the icepick!" "Wonder what he gave poor Mel when he heard about her," murmured Elinor, thoughtfully.
It gradually dawned on Blair that some gossip was rife anent a midnight marriage between his friend Daren Lane and Mel Iden. Blair was deeply shocked. Then his emotions, never calm, grew poignant. He listened. What he heard spoken of Daren and Mel made his blood boil.
"Come, Daren," whispered Mrs. Wrapp, as if thrilled. Certainly her eyes gleamed. Then quickly she threw the door open wide and called out: "Helen, here's Daren Lane home from the war, wearing the Croix de Guerre." Mrs. Wrapp pushed Lane forward, and stood there a moment in the sudden silence, then stepping back, she went out and closed the door.
They don't understand.... But Daren, I think I get your drift. So snow some more." All in a moment, it seemed to Lane, this girl passed from surprise to gravity, then to contempt, and finally to humor. She was fascinating. "To go back to the club," resumed Lane. "Bessy, what did you do there?" "Oh, we toddled and shimmied. Cut up! Had an immense time, I'll say." "What do you mean by cut up?"
"Do you know what Daren said?" demanded Margaret, in a frenzy of excitement. "No. None of the girls know. We can only imagine. That makes it worse. If Fanchon knows she won't tell. But it is gossip all over town. We'll hear it soon. All the girls in town are imagining. It's spread like wildfire. And what do you think, Margie? In church on Sunday Doctor Wallace spoke of it. He mentioned no names.
Maynard, bewildered by the revolt of this once meek daughter. "Maybe I'm learning a little sense. Maybe I got some of it from Daren Lane," flashed back Margaret. "Mother, whatever I've learned lately has been learned away from home. You've no more idea what's going on in the world to-day than if you were actually dead. I never was bright like Mel Iden, but I'm no fool. I see and hear and I read.
"Had my last crazy spell two weeks ago," he replied. "Until to-night." "You mean my kissing you? Well, I refuse to apologize. You see I was not prepared to find you so improved. Why, Mel, you're changed. You're just just lovely." Again the rich color stained her cheeks. "Thank you, Daren," she said. "I have changed.
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