llier and livelier
than a French camp!"

CHAPTER IV

PHILIPPE AND HIS WIFE

Marthe and Suzanne were very intimate, in spite of the difference in
their ages. Marthe was full of indulgent kindness for her friend, whom
she had known as quite a child, motherless and left to herself; whereas
Suzanne was less even-tempered with Marthe, now gushing and coaxing, now
aggressive and satirical, but always full of charm.

When Marthe had finished unfastening the trunks, Suzanne herself
insisted on emptying the travelling-bag and arranging on the table all
the little things with which one tries, when away, to give one's room a
look of home: portraits of the children, writing-cases, favourite
books....

"You'll be very snug here, Marthe," she said. "It's a nice, light room
... and there's only a dressing-room between you and Philippe.... But
how did you come to want two bedrooms?"

"It was Philippe. He was afraid of disturbing me in the mornings...."

"Oh," repeated the girl. "It was Philippe's suggestion...."

Then she took up one of the photographs and examined it:

"How like his father your son Jacques is!... Much more so than Paul ...
don't you think?"

Marthe came to the table and, bending over her friend, looked at the
picture with those mother's eyes which seem to see in the inanimate
image the life, the smile and the beauty of the absent one.

"Which do you like best, Jacques or Paul?" asked Suzanne.

"What a question! If you were a mother...."

"If I were a mother, I should like that one best who reminded me most of
my husband. The other would make me suspect that my husband had ceased
to love me...."

"You put down everything to love, my poor Suzanne! Do you imagine that
there is nothing in the world but love?"

"There are heaps of other things. But you yourself, Marthe: wouldn't you
like love to fill a greater place in your life?"

This was said with a certain sarcasm, of which Marthe felt the sting.
But, before she had time to retort, Philippe appeared in the doorway.

Suzanne at once cried:

"We were talking about you, Philippe."

He made no reply. He went to the window, closed it and then came back to
the two young women. Suzanne pointed to a chair beside her, but he sat
down by Marthe; and Marthe saw by his look that something had happened:

"Have you spoken to him?"

"No."

"Still ..."

He told her, in a few sentences, of the conversation, with the incident
of the pamphlet and th