thought you'd been out all the afternoon. I'm
sorry. I am a damned fool, Julie!"

She laughed in the darkness. "I've known worse, Peter," she said, and was
gone.

* * * * *

Next day Julie was in her most provocative of moods. Peter, eminently
respectable in his best tunic, waited ten minutes for her outside the
Nouvelles Galleries, and, like most men in his condition, considered that
she was never coming, and that he was the cynosure of neighbouring eyes.
When she did come, she was not apparently aware that she was late. She
ran her eyes over him, and gave a pretended gasp of surprise. "You're
looking wonderful, Padre Graham," she said. "Really, you're hard to live
up to. I never know what to expect or how to behave. Those black buttons
terrorise me. Come on."

She insisted on getting her ribbon first, and turned over everything
there was to be seen at that counter. The French girl who served them was
highly amused.

"Isn't that chic?" Julie demanded of Peter, holding up a lacy camisole
and deliberately putting it to her shoulders. "Wouldn't you love to see
me in it?"

"I would," he said, without the ghost of a smile.

"Well, you never will, of course," she said. "I shall never marry or be
given in marriage, and in any case, in that uniform, you've nothing
whatever to hope for.... Yes, I'll take that ribbon, thank you,
ma'm'selle. Peter, I suppose you can't carry it for me. Your pocket? Not
a bad idea; but let me put it in."

Peter stood while she undid his breast-pocket and stuffed it inside.

"Anything more?" demanded the French saleswoman interrogatively.

"Not to-day, merci," said Julie. "You see, Peter, you couldn't carry
undies for me, even in your pocket; it wouldn't be respectable. _Do_ come
on. You will keep us here the entire day."

They passed the smoking department, and she stopped suddenly. "Peter,"
she said, "I'm going to give you a pipe. Those chocolates you gave me at
Christmas were too delicious for anything. What sort do you like? A
briar? Let me see if it blows nicely." She put it to her lips. "I swear
I shall start a pipe soon, in my old age. By the way, I don't believe you
have any idea how old I am--have you, Peter? Guess."

She was quick to note the return to his old manner. He was nervous with
her, not sure of himself, and so not sure of her either. And she traded
on it. At the stationery department she made eyes at a couple of
officers, and insisted