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glances to his。
It was the sort of thing he would have revelled in three or four
years earlier。 Exactly the sort of thing he had dreamed of when
the majority of the poems they gushed over were written。 It was
much the same thing he remembered having seen his father undergo
in the days when he and the opera singer were together。 And his
father had； apparently； rather enjoyed it。 He realized all this
and he realized； too； with a queer feeling that it should be so；
that he did not like it at all。 It was silly。 Nothing he had
written warranted such extravagances。 Hadn't these people any
sense of proportion？ They bored him to desperation。 The sole
relief was the behavior of the men； particularly the middle…aged or
elderly men； obviously present through feminine compulsion。 They
seized his hand； moved it up and down with a pumping motion；
uttered some stereotyped prevarications about their pleasure at
meeting him and their having enjoyed his poems very much； and then
slid on in the direction of the refreshment room。
And Albert； as he shook hands； bowed and smiled and was charmingly
affable； found his thoughts wandering until they settled upon
Private Mike Kelly and the picturesque language of the latter when
he； as sergeant； routed him out for guard duty。 Mike had not
gushed over him nor called him a genius。 He had called him many
things； but not that。
He was glad indeed when he could slip away for a dance with
Madeline。 He found her chatting gaily with Captain Blanchard； who
had been her most recent partner。 He claimed her from the captain
and as he led her out to the dance floor she whispered that she was
very proud of him。 〃But I DO wish YOU could wear your war cross；〃
she added。
The quite informal affair was the first of many quite as informally
formal。 Also Mrs。 Fosdick's satellites and friends of the literary
clubs and the war work societies seized the opportunity to make
much of the heroic author of The Lances of Dawn。 His society was
requested at teas； at afternoon as well as evening gatherings。 He
would have refused most of these invitations； but Madeline and her
mother seemed to take his acceptance for granted； in fact； they
accepted for him。 A ghastly habit developed of asking him to read
a few of his own poems on these occasions。 〃PLEASE； Mr。 Speranza。
It will be such a treat； and such an HONOR。〃 Usually a particular
request was made that he read 〃The Greater Love。〃 Now 〃The Greater
Love〃 was the poem which； written in those rapturous days when he
and Madeline first became aware of their mutual adoration； was
refused by one editor as a 〃trifle too syrupy。〃 To read that
sticky effusion over and over again became a torment。 There were
occasions when if a man had referred to 〃The Greater Love；〃 its
author might have howled profanely and offered bodily violence。
But no men ever did refer to 〃The Greater Love。〃
On one occasion when a sentimental matron and her gushing daughter
had begged to know if he did not himself adore that poem； if he did
not consider it the best he had ever written； he had answered
frankly。 He was satiated with cake and tea and compliments that
evening and recklessly truthful。 〃You really wish to know my
opinion of that poem？〃 he asked。 Indeed and indeed they really
wished to knew just that thing。 〃Well； then； I think it's rot；〃 he
declared。 〃I loathe it。〃
Of course mother and daughter were indignant。 Their comments
reached Madeline's ear。 She took him to task。
〃But why did you say it？〃 she demanded。 〃You know you don't mean
it。〃
〃Yes； I do mean it。 It IS rot。 Lots of the stuff in that book of
mine is rot。 I did not think so once； but I do now。 If I had the
book to make over again； that sort wouldn't be included。〃
She looked at him for a moment as if studying a problem。
〃I don't understand you sometimes；〃 she said slowly。 〃You are
different。 And I think what you said to Mrs。 Bacon and Marian was
very rude。〃
Later when he went to look for her he found her seated with Captain
Blanchard in a corner。 They were eating ices and； apparently；
enjoying themselves。 He did not disturb them。 Instead he hunted
up the offended Bacons and apologized for his outbreak。 The
apology； although graciously accepted； had rather wearisome
consequences。 Mrs。 Bacon declared she knew that he had not really
meant what he said。
〃I realize how it must be；〃 she declared。 〃You people of
temperament； of genius； of aspirations； are never quite satisfied；
you cannot be。 You are always trying； always seeking the higher
attainment。 Achievements of the past； though to the rest of us
wonderful and sublime； are to youas you say； 'rot。' That is it；
is it not？〃 Albert said he guessed it was； and wandered away；
seeking seclusion and solitude。 When the affair broke up he found
Madeline and Blanchard still enjoying each other's society。 Both
were surprised when told the hour。
CHAPTER XVII
So the first three weeks of his proposed month's visit passed and
the fourth began。 And more and more his feelings of dissatisfaction
and uneasiness increased。 The reasons for those feelings he found
hard to define。 The Fosdicks were most certainly doing their best
to make him comfortable and happy。 They were kindyes； more than
kind。 Mr。 Fosdick he really began to like。 Mrs。 Fosdick's manner
had a trace of condescension in it； but as the lady treated all
creation with much the same measure of condescension； he was more
amused than resentful。 And MadelineMadeline was sweet and
charming and beautiful。 There was in her manner toward him； or so
he fancied； a slight change； perhaps a change a trifle more marked
since the evening when his expressed opinion of 〃The Greater Love〃
had offended her and the Bacons。 It seemed to him that she was more
impatient； more capricious； sometimes almost overwhelming him with
attention and tenderness and then appearing to forget him entirely
and to be quite indifferent to his thoughts and opinions。 Her moods
varied greatly and there were occasions when he found it almost
impossible to please her。 At these times she took offense when no
offense was intended and he found himself apologizing when； to say
the least； the fault； if there was any； was not more than half his。
But she always followed those moods with others of contrition and
penitence and then he was petted and fondled and his forgiveness
implored。
These slight changes in her he noticed； but they troubled him
little； principally because he was coming to realize the great
change in himself。 More and more that change was forcing itself
upon him。 The stories and novels he had read during the first
years of the war； the stories by English writers in which young
men； frivolous and inconsequential； had enlisted and fought and
emerged from the ordeal strong； purposeful and 〃made…over〃those
stories recurred to him now。 He had paid little attention to the
〃making…over〃 idea when he read those tales； but now he was forced
to believe there might be something in it。 Certainly something；
the three years or the discipline and training and suffering； or
all combined； had changed him。 He was not as he used to be。
Things he liked very much he no longer liked at all。 And where；
oh where； was the serene self…satisfaction which once was his？
The change must be quite individual； he decided。 All soldiers were
not so affected。 Take Blanchard； for instance。 Blanchard had seen
service； more and quite as hard fighting as he had seen； but
Blanchard was； to all appearances； as light…hearted and serene and
confident as ever。 Blanchard was like Madeline； he was much the
same now as he had been before the war。 Blanchard could dance and
talk small talk and laugh and enjoy himself。 Well； so could he； on
occasions； for that matter； if that had been all。 But it was not
all； or if it was why was he at other times so discontented and
uncomfortable？ What was the matter with him； anyway？
He drew more and more into his shell and became more quiet and less
talkative。 Madeline； in one of her moods； reproached him for it。
〃I do wish you wouldn't be grumpy；〃 she said。
They had been sitting in the library and he had lapsed into a fit
of musing； answering her questions with absentminded monosyllables。
Now he looked up。
〃Grumpy？〃 he repeated。 〃Was I grumpy？ I beg your pardon。〃
〃You should。 You answered every word I spoke to you with a grunt
or a growl。 I might as well have been talking to a bear。〃
〃I'm awfully sorry； dear。 I didn't feel grumpy。 I was thinking； I
suppose。〃
〃Thinking！ You are always thinking。 Why think； pray？ 。 。 。 If I
permitted myself to think； I should go insane。〃
〃Madeline； what do you mean？〃
〃Oh； nothing。 I'm partially insane now； perhaps。 Come； let's go
to the piano。 I feel like playing。 You don't mind； do you？〃
That evening Mrs。 Fosdick made a suggestion to her husband。
〃Fletcher；〃 she said； 〃I am inclined to think it is time you and
Albert had a talk concerning the future。 A business talk； I mean。
I am a little uneasy about him。 From some things he has said to me
recently I gather that he is planning to earn his livi