im since
the flight from Cambrai.

"But what is going to become of you?"

"So long as one keeps a brave heart what, does it matter? I am strong.
I have a good enough education. I can earn my living. Oh, don't make
any mistake. I have no pity for myself. Those who waste efforts in
pitying themselves are not of the stuff to make France victorious."

"I am afraid I have done a lot of self-pitying, Jeanne."

"Don't do it any more," she said gently.

"I won't," said he.

"If you keep to the soul you have gained, you can't," said Jeanne.

"_Toujours la sagesse._"

"You are laughing at me."

"God forbid," said Doggie.

Phineas and Mo came strolling towards the kitchen door.

"My two friends, to pay their visit of adieu," said he.

Jeanne slid from the table and welcomed the newcomers in her calm,
dignified way. Once more Doggie found himself regarding her as his
senior in age and wisdom and conduct of life. The pathetic girlishness
which she had revealed to him had gone. The age-investing ghosts had
returned.

Mo grinned, interjected a British Army French word now and then, and
manifested delight when Jeanne understood. Phineas talked laboriously,
endeavouring to expound his responsibility for Doggie's welfare. He
had been his tutor. He used the word "_tuteur_."

"That's a guardian, you silly ass," cried Doggie. "He means
'_instituteur_.' Go on. Or, rather, don't go on. The lady isn't
interested."

"_Mais si_," said Jeanne, catching at the last English word. "It
interests me greatly."

"_Merci, mademoiselle_," said Phineas grandly. "I only wish to explain
to you that while I live you need have no fear for Doggie. I will
protect him with my body from shells and promise to bring him safe
back to you. And so will Monsieur Shendish."

"What's that?" asked Mo.

Phineas translated.

"_Oui, oui, oui!_" said Mo, nodding vigorously.

A spot of colour burned on Jeanne's pale cheek, and Doggie grew red
under his tanned skin. He cursed Phineas below his breath, and
exchanged a significant glance with Mo. Jeanne said, in her even
voice:

"I hope all the Three Musketeers will come back safe."

Mo extended a grimy hand. "Well, good-bye, miss! McPhail here and I
must be going."

She shook hands with both, wishing them _bonne chance_, and they
strolled away. Doggie lingered.

"You mustn't mind what McPhail says. He's only an old imbecile."

"You have two comrades who love you. That is the principal thing."