"It's been a long pull—Blair Maynard and I were the first to enlist, and we left Middleville almost immediately," went on Lane.
He desired to plant in Iden's mind the fact that he had left Middleville long before the wild era of soldier-and-girl attraction which had created such havoc. Acutely sensitive as Lane was, he could not be sure of an alteration in Iden's aloofness, yet there was some slight change. Then he talked frankly about specific phases of the war. Finally, when he saw that he had won interest and sympathy from Iden he abruptly launched his purpose.
"Mr. Iden, I came to ask if you will give your consent to my marrying Mel."
The older man shrank back as if he had been struck. He stared. His lower jaw dropped. A dark flush reddened his cheek.
"What!... Lane, you must be drunk," he ejaculated, thickly.
"No. I never was more earnest in my life. I want to marry Mel Iden."
"Why?" rasped out the father, hoarsely.
"I understand Mel," replied Lane, and swiftly he told his convictions as to the meaning and cause of her sacrifice. "Mel is good. She never was bad. These rotten people who see dishonor and disgrace in her have no minds, no hearts. Mel is far above these painted, bare-kneed girls who scorn her.... And I want to show them what I think of her. I want to give her boy a name—so he'll have a chance in the world. I'll not live long. This is just a little thing I can do to make it easier for Mel."
"Lane, you can't be the father of her child," burst out Iden.
"No. I wish I were. I was never anything to Mel but a friend. She was only a girl—seventeen when I left home."