Taxis were as if they had
never been. They passed groups of soldiers who turned to look at
Marjory. The eyes of many were hot with wine, and she was very glad
that she was not alone.

At the door of the garage stood a soldier in uniform. As Monte
attempted to pass, he was brought to a halt.

"It is not permitted to pass," explained the guard.

"But I want to get my car."

"I 'm afraid monsieur has no car."

"Eh?"

"They have all been taken for la patrie."

"You mean my machine has been confiscated?"

"Borrowed, perhaps. After the victory--" The guard shrugged his
shoulders.

Monte shrugged his own shoulders. Then he laughed.

"After all," he said, "that is little enough to do for France. Inform
the authorities they are welcome."

He saluted the guard, who returned the salute. Again he took Marjory's
arm, and turned toward the hotel.

"There is nothing to do but to walk," he declared.

"Where?"

She could not understand his mood. It was as if this were a holiday
instead of a very serious plight.

"Over the border. It is only some twenty-five miles. We can do it
easily in two days; but even if it takes three--"

Even if it took a hundred, what did it matter, with her by his side?
And by his side she must remain until her credit was restored. With
only one louis d'or in her pocket, she was merely a woman, with all the
limitations of her sex. She could not take to the open road alone.
She did not have the physical strength that dictated the law for
vagabonds. She must have a man near to fight for her, or it would go
hard. Even Marie would be no protection in time of war.

Dumbly she followed his pace until they reached the hotel. The place
was in confusion and the proprietor at his wits' end. In the midst of
it, Monte was the only one apparently unmoved.

"Pack one small hand-bag," he ordered. "You must leave your trunks
here."

"Yes, Monte," she submitted.

"I'll run back to the Roses, and meet you here in a half-hour. Will
you be ready?"

"Yes. Marie will come with us, of course."

He shook his head.

"She must wait here until she can get to Paris. Find out if she has
any cash."

"I want her to come with me," she pleaded.

"I doubt if she will want to come. Anyway, our fifty-five dollars
won't stretch to her. We--we can't afford a maid."

She flushed at his use of "we." Nevertheless, what he said was true
enough. That sum was a mere pittance. Fate had her in