felt on his account, it isn't fair to us, it seems to me, for him to act as if he hadn't been near the war at all, and we'd all been making a lot over nothing."
He had spent most of his time since his return playing golf alone. Every morning after breakfast he started for the golf club, "to learn to play the game over again with a game arm," he explained. Every afternoon he toured the country—alone also—in his old roadster.
"Jack Sherrill is spending all his spare time," Barbara bluntly informed her mother and father, "speaking to various gatherings about town to enrouse enthusiasm for the next Loan."
Vincent had been good at public speaking when he was in college. Moreover, of all the men so far returned in the small city, he was the only one to have been decorated for valor. He was distinctly the hero of them all. There had been encomiums and tributes of high praise to him in all the newspapers for weeks before he returned. Yet he refused to address a single organization—to sit at a dinner-table even, at his father's club, and answer questions informally. Odd! He used to be the most sociable of men. He used, too, to be kind and considerate. Since his return some of his replies to the well-meaning questions asked him by friends who had dropped into the
