Part 37 (1/2)

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 on examining Kirschner picture-postcards, some of which she would not show him. ”You can't possibly be seen looking at them with those badges up,” she whispered. ”Dear me, if only Donovan were here! He wouldn't mind, and I don't know which packet I like best. These have got very little on, Peter--_very_ little, but I'm not sure that they are not more decent than those. It's _much_ worse than a camisole, you know....”

Peter was horribly conscious that the men were smiling at her. ”Julie,”

he said desperately, ”_do_ be sensible, just for a minute. We must get those menu-cards.”

”Well, you go and find the books,” she said merrily. ”I told you you ought not to watch me buy these. I'll take the best care of myself,” and she looked past him towards the men.

Peter gave it up. ”Julie,” he said savagely, ”if you make eyes any more, I'll kiss you here and now--I swear I will.”

Julie laughed her little nearly silent chuckle, and looked at him. ”I believe you would, Peter,” she said, ”and I certainly mustn't risk that.

I'll be good. Are those the books? Fetch me a chair, then, and I'll look through them.”

He bent over her as she turned the leaves. She wore a little toque that had some relation to a nurse's uniform, but was distinctive of Julie. Her fringe of brown hair lay along her forehead, and the thick ma.s.ses of the rest of it tempted him almost beyond endurance. ”How will that do?” she demanded, her eyes dancing. ”Oh, do look at the cards and not at me!

You're a terrible person to bring shopping, Peter!”

The card selected, she had a bright idea. ”What about candle-shades?” she queried. ”We can't trust the hotel. I want some with violets on them: I love violets.”

”Do you?” he said eagerly. ”That's just what I wanted to know. Yes, it's a fine idea; let's go and get them.”

Outside, she gave a sigh of relief, and looked at the little gold wrist-watch on her arm. ”We've time,” she said. ”Take me to tea.”

”You must know it's not possible,” he said. ”They're enforcing the order, and one can't get tea anywhere.”

She shook her head at him. ”I think, Peter,” she said, ”you'll never learn the ropes. Follow me.”

Not literally, but metaphorically, he followed her. She led him to a big confectioner's with two doors and several windows, in each of which was a big notice of the new law forbidding teas or the purchase of chocolates.

Inside, she walked up to a girl who was standing by a counter, and who greeted her with a smile. ”It is cold outside,” she said. ”May I have a warm by the fire?”

”Certainly, mademoiselle,” said the girl. ”And monsieur also. Will it please you to come round here?”

They went behind the counter and in at a little door. There was a fire in the grate of the small kitchen, and a kettle singing on the hob. Julie sat down on a chair at the wooden table and looked round with satisfaction.

”Why, it's all ready for us!” she exclaimed. ”Chocolate cakes, Suzanne, please, _and_ hot b.u.t.tered scones. I'll b.u.t.ter them, if you bring the scones.”

They came, and she went to the fire, splitting them open and spreading the b.u.t.ter lavishly. ”I love France,” she said. ”All laws are made to be broken, which is all that laws are good for, don't you think?”

”Yes,” he said deliberately, glancing at the closed door, and bent and kissed her neck. She looked up imperiously. ”Again,” she said; and he kissed her on the lips. At that she jumped up with a quick return to the old manner: ”Peter! For a parson you are the outside edge. Go and sit down over there and recollect yourself. To begin with, if we're found, here, there'll be a row, and if you're caught kissing me, who knows what will happen?”

He obeyed gaily. ”Chaff away, Julie,” he said, ”but I shan't wear black b.u.t.tons at the dinner. You'll have to look out that night.”

She put the scones on the table, and sat down. ”And if I don't?” she queried. Peter said nothing. He had suddenly thought of something. He looked at her, and for the first time she would not meet his eyes.

It was thought better on New Year's Eve that they should go separately to Donovan's camp, so Peter and Pennell set out for it alone. By the ca.n.a.l Pennell left his friend to go and meet Elsie Harding, the third girl.

Peter went on alone, and found Donovan, giving some orders in the camp.

He stood with him till they saw the other four, who had met on the tow-path, coming in together.

”He's a dark horse,” called Julie, almost before they had come up, ”and so's she. Fancy Elsie being the third! I didn't know they knew each other. We're a Colonial party to-night, Jack--all except Peter, that is, for Mr. Pennell is more Canadian than English. We'll teach them. By the way, I can't go on saying 'Mr. Pennell' all night. What shall I call him, Elsie?”

Peter saw that the new-comer wore an Australian brooch, and caught the unmistakable but charming accent in her reply. ”He's 'Trevor' to me, and he can be to you, if you like, Julie,” she said.