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 turned without picking up his coat, and strode toward the gate. It was a flight.

The stranger girl who had stood his friend laid her hand on his arm as he passed. “You were splendid…. You thought—and did something—while everybody else was in a panic.”

“I—I didn’t think,” he said in his old, troubled, vague way. “I—just did it.” Unconsciously he moved his hands as though in pain and looked down at them with a perplexed look, as if he could not understand what troubled them.

“You’re burned,” said the girl. “Let me see.”

“No…. No…. I must go….”

“Let me see your hands,” she said sharply.

The palms were blackened and blistered. She touched them lightly, gently. “Come into the house this minute,” she ordered. “They must be dressed.”

He shook his head stubbornly. “No…. I’ve got to go.” He would not be stayed, and seeing his face and the misery of it, she did not attempt to hold him further. “Good night,” she said quietly. “I shall be very glad—and proud—to have you call.”

Angus made no answer, but strode hurriedly out of the yard and down the street. Behind him he left an excited clatter…. Perhaps he was not being elevated into a hero, but something