f the room luridly requested that the
conversation should cease. Silence reigned.

* * * * *

A letter from Jeanne. The envelope bore a French stamp with the
Frelus postmark, and the address was in a bold feminine hand. From
whom could it be but Jeanne? His heart gave a ridiculous leap and he
tore the envelope open as he had never torn open envelope of Peggy's.
But at the first two words the leap seemed to be one in mid-air, and
his heart went down, down, down like an aeroplane done in, and arrived
with a hideous bump upon rocks.

"_Cher Monsieur_"

_Cher Monsieur_ from Jeanne--Jeanne who had called him "Dog-gie" in
accents that had rendered adorable the once execrated syllables. _Cher
Monsieur!_

And the following, in formal French--it might have been a convent
exercise in composition--is what she said:

"The military authorities have remitted into my possession the
package which you so heroically rescued from the well of the
farm of La Folette. It contains all that my father was able to
save of his fortune, and on consultation with Maitre Pepineau
here, it appears that I have sufficient to live modestly for the
rest of my life. For the marvellous devotion of you, monsieur,
an English gentleman, to the poor interests of an obscure young
French girl, I can never be sufficiently grateful. There will
never be a prayer of mine, until I die, in which you will not be
mentioned. To me it will be always a symbolic act of your
chivalrous England in the aid of my beloved France. That you
have been wounded in this noble and selfless enterprise, is to
me a subject both of pride and terrifying dismay. I am moved to
the depths of my being. But I have been assured, and your
telegram confirms the assurance, that your wound is not
dangerous. If you had been killed while rendering me this
wonderful service, or incapacitated so that you could no longer
strike a blow for your country and mine, I should never have
forgiven myself. I should have felt that I had robbed France of
a heroic defender. I pray God that you may soon recover, and in
fighting once more against our common enemy, you may win the
glory that no English soldier can deserve more than you. Forgive
me if I express badly the emotions which overwhelm me. It is
impossible that we shall meet again. One of the few English
novels I have tried