pause. Then: "I can't cut Tommy," she said.

"Not for once?" he urged. She turned away from him and looked down at the
water. It is curious how there come moments of apprehension in all our
lives when we want a thing, but know quite well we are mad to want it.
Julie looked into the future for a few seconds, and saw plainly, but
would not believe what she saw.

When she turned back she had her old manner completely. "You're a dear
old thing," she said, "and I'll do it. But if it gets out that I gadded
about for a day with an officer, even though he is a padre, and that we
went miles out of town, there'll be some row, my boy. Quick now! I must
get back. What's the plan?"

"Thanks awfully," said Peter. "It will be a rag. What time can you get
off?"

"Oh, after breakfast easily--say eight-thirty."

"Right. Well, take the tram-car to Harfleur--you know?--as far as it
goes. I'll be at the terminus with a car. What time must you be in?"

"I can get late leave till ten, I think," she said.

"Good! That gives us heaps of time. We'll lunch and tea in Caudebec, and
have some sandwiches for the road home."

"And if the car breaks down?"

"It won't," said Peter. "You're lucky in love, aren't you?"

She did not laugh. "I don't know," she said. "Good-night."

And then Peter had walked home, thinking of Hilda. And he had sat by the
sea, and come to the conclusion that he was a rotter, but in the web of
Fate and much to be pitied, which is like a man. And then he had played
auction till midnight and lost ten francs, and gone to bed concluding
that he was certainly unlucky--at cards.

As Peter sat in his car at the Harfleur terminus that Thursday it must be
confessed that he was largely indifferent to the beauties of the Seine
Valley that he had professedly come to see. He was nervous, to begin
with, lest he should be recognised by anyone, and he was in one of his
troubled moods. But he had not long to wait. The tram came out, and he
threw away his cigarette and walked to meet the passengers.

Julie looked very smart in the grey with its touch of scarlet, but she
was discontented with it. "If only I could put on a few glad rags," she
said as she climbed into the car, "this would be perfect. You men can't
know how a girl comes to hate uniform. It's not bad occasionally, but if
you have to wear it always it spoils chances. But I've got my new shoes
and silk stockings on," she added, sticking out a neat ankle, "and my
skirt i