yet young. There are times when it seems too wonderful to be true; and
yet I know--I know!"

"Is it a gun?" said Chris.

"Yes, _mignonne_, a gun! It is also a secret--thine and mine."

She uttered a faint sigh. "I wish it wasn't a gun, Bertie. If it were
only an aeroplane, or something that didn't hurt anyone! Of course, you
are a soldier and a Frenchman. I couldn't expect you to understand."

He laughed rather ruefully. "But I understand all. And you do not love
the French? No?"

"Not so very much," said Chris honestly. "Of course, I'm not being
personal. I liked you from the first."

"Ah! But really?" he said.

"Yes, really; and so did Cinders. He always knows when people are nice.
We shall miss you quite a lot when we go home."

"Quite a lot!" Bertrand repeated the phrase musingly as if questioning
with himself how much it might mean.

"Yes," she went on, "we were so lonely till you came." She broke off to
yawn. "Do you know, I'm beginning to get sleepy. Is it the spell, do you
think, or only the dark?"

"It is not the spell," he said, with conviction.