'd survived until now. But
here's a Frenchman's work. They're on our side, and his stuff is pretty
good, isn't it?"

Clare smiled.

"Yes," she said, "it's certainly good; but I'd rather sing something
English to-night."

She began a patriotic ballad Dick knew and liked. He was not much of a
musician, but his taste was good. The song rang true; it was poetry and
not warlike jingle, but he had not heard it sung so well before. Clare's
voice had been carefully trained and she used it well, but he knew that
she had grasped the spirit of the song. One or two of the men who had
been sitting got up, two young subalterns stood very stiff and straight,
but Dick noted that Kenwardine did not change his lounging attitude. He
was smiling, and Lance, glancing at him, looked amused. Dick remembered
this afterward, but he now felt that Lance was not quite showing his
usual good form.

When the song was finished, Dick turned to Clare. He wanted to begin
talking to her before anybody else came up.

"It was very fine. I don't understand the technique of music, but one
felt that you got the song just right. And then, the way you brought out
the idea!"

"That is what the mechanical part is for," she answered with a smile and
a touch of color. "As it happens, I saw an infantry brigade on the march
to-day, and watched the long line of men go by in the dust and sun.
Perhaps that helps one to understand."

"Did you see them cross the bridge?" Dick asked eagerly.

"No," she answered; and he felt absurdly disappointed. He would have
liked to think that his work had helped her to sing.

"Have you another like the first?" he asked.

"I never sing more than once," she smiled. Then as Lance and another man
came toward them, she added, glancing at an open French window: "Besides,
the room is very hot. It would be cooler in the garden."

Dick was not a man of affairs, but he was not a fool. He knew that Clare
Kenwardine was not the girl to attempt his captivation merely because he
had shown himself susceptible. She wanted him to keep the others off, and
he thought he understood this as he glanced at Lance's companion. The
fellow had a coarse, red face and looked dissipated, and even Lance's
well-bred air was somehow not so marked as usual. Well, he was willing
that she should make any use of him that she liked.

They passed the others, and after stopping to tell Kenwardine that she
was going out, Clare drew back a curtain that covered p