Yet it really wasn't so very sad--was it?"

"I think it was sad. She was such a little starved thing--starved for
love."

"Yes. It must be dreadful to be starved for love."

He glanced down at her. "You have never felt it?"

"No, except after my mother died--I wanted her--"

"My mother is dead, too."

The Doctor sat alone at the head of the table and ate his lobster; he
ate war bread and a green salad, and drank a pot of black coffee, and
was at peace with the world. Star-dust was all very well for those
young things out there. He laughed as they came back to him. "Each to
his own joys--the lobster was very good, Drake."

They hardly heard him. Jean had a rosy parfait with a strawberry on
top. Derry had another.

They talked of the screen play, and the man who had failed. If he had
really loved her he would not have failed, Jean said.

"I think he loved her," was Derry's opinion; "the spirit was willing,
but the flesh was weak."

Jean shrugged. "Well, Fate was kind to him--to give him another
chance. Oh, Daddy, tell him the story the little French woman told at