The great city seemed to frown.

The low line of hills in the west shone dull gray and cold.

Where were the screaming siren whistles, the gay streaming flags, the boats crowded with waving people, that should have welcomed disabled soldiers who had fought for their country?
Lane hoped he had long passed by bitterness, but yet something rankled in the unhealed wound of his heart.
Some one put a hand in close clasp upon his arm.

Then Lane heard the scrape of a crutch on the deck, and knew who stood beside him.
"Well, Dare, old boy, does it look good to you ?" asked a husky voice.
"Yes, Blair, but somehow not just what I expected," replied Lane, turning to his comrade.
"Uhuh, I get you." Blair Maynard stood erect with the aid of a crutch.

There was even a hint of pride in the poise of his uncovered head.