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 "One hardly has time to put down roots anywhere, really become attached to—to places or people—before he's moved on. And I have great capacities for putting down roots," he continued wistfully.

"But where there are roots there are flowers," said Nyla, hardly knowing what she said. This softness in a strong character moved her strangely.

"Not always. Sometimes just weeds, or poison ivy."

"But even if you had to go back to Geneva, that isn't so terribly far. The League would let you run up and spend a week-end with us now and then."

The Colonel shook his head hopelessly.

"They usually send me a long way off—Poland, Greece, Armenia where the massacres are. Even to North America."

"There must be some mistake. They wouldn't send you to places like that if they knew the sort of man you are," said Nyla adoringly. "Or perhaps they're jealous of you at head-