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 His tone changed suddenly and he looked at her with a great brightness in his gray eyes.

"But way back in a man's heart there are some things he can't get rid of—an one of them is that I'm awfully in love with my little sister."

With a sudden impulse she knelt beside him in the grass and, Leaning over, kissed his forehead.

"You're hard, Keith," she said, "and I love you for it—and you're sweet." Back in the reception-room Lois met a half-dozen more of Keith’s particular friends; there was a young man named Jarvis, rather pale and delicate-looking, who, she knew, must be a grandson of old Mrs. Jarvis at home, and she mentally compared this ascetic with a brace of his riotous uncles.

And there was Regan with a scarred face and piercing intent eyes that followed her about the room and often rested on Keith with something very like worship. She knew then what Keith had meant about "a good man to have with you in a fight."

He's the missionary type—she thought vaguely—China or something.

"I want Keith’s sister to show us what the shimmy is," demanded one young man with a broad grin.

Lois laughed.

"I'm afraid the Father Rector would send me shimmying out the gate. Besides, I'm not an expert."