the big bunch by the
side of her, and seated himself on the edge of the bed. She had been
reading a book, and he noticed it was the sort of book that Langton and
he had seen so prominently in the book-shop at Abbeville.

If he had expected to find her depressed or ashamed, he was entirely
mistaken. "Oh, you darling," she cried in clipped English. "Kiss me,
quick, or I will forget the orders of the doctor and jump out of bed and
catch you. Oh, that you should bring me the rose so beautiful! Helas! I
may not wear one this night in the cafe! See, are they not beautiful
here?"

She pulled her nightdress open considerably more than the average evening
dress is cut away and put two or three of the blooms on her white bosom,
putting her head on one side to see the result. "Oui," she exclaimed, "je
suis exquise! To-night I 'ave so many boys I do not know what to do! But
I forget: I cannot go. Je suis malade, tres malade. You knew? You are
angry with me--is it not so?"

He laughed; there was nothing else to do. "No," he said; "why should I
be? But I am very sorry."

She shrugged her shoulders. "It is nothing," she said. "C'est la guerre
for me. I shall not be long, and when I come out you will come to see me
again, will you not? And bring me more flowers? And you shall not let me
'ave the danger any more, and if I do wrong you shall smack me 'ard.
Per'aps you will like that. In the books men like it much. Would you like
to whip me?" she demanded, her eyes sparkling as she threw herself over
in the bed and looked up at him.

Peter got up and moved away to the window. "No," he said shortly, staring
out. He had a sensation of physical nausea, and it was as much as he
could do to restrain himself. He realised, suddenly, that he was in the
presence of the world, the flesh, and the devil's final handiwork. Only
his new knowledge kept him quiet. Even she might be little to blame. He
remembered all that she had said to him before, and suddenly his disgust
was turned into overwhelming pity. This child before him--for she was
little more than a child--had bottomed degradation. For the temporary
protection and favour of a man that she guessed to be kind there was
nothing in earth or in hell that she would not do. And in her already
were the seeds of the disease that was all but certain to slay her.

He turned again to the bed, and knelt beside it. "Poor little girl," he
said, and lightly brushed her hair. He certainly never expected