Miss Holland suddenly lost a perfectly good and hitherto reliable
appetite.

Nor was she the only member of the supper party to develop symptoms of
shock. The gilded and stalwart youth on her left, following her glance,
stared at the amateur servitor with protruding eyes, ceased to eat or
drink, and fell into a state of semi-coma, muttering at intervals an
expressive monosyllable.

"Why not swear out loud, Caspar?" asked Bobbie presently. "It'll do you
less harm."

"D'you see that chap over yonder? The big, fine-looking one fixing the
forks?"

"Yes," said Bobbie faintly.

"Well, that's--No, by thunder, it can't be!--Yes, by the red-hot hinges,
it _is!_"

"Do you think you know him?"

"Know him! I _know_ him? He bunked in with me for two weeks at Grandpré.
He was captain of a machine-gun outfit sent down to help us clean out
that little wasp's nest. His name's Tenney, and if ever there was a
hellion in a fight! And see--what he's come to! My God!"

"Well, don't cry about it," advised the girl, serenely, though it was
hard for her to keep her voice steady. "There's nothing to do about it,
is there?"