"I think they do, each in his way. As for Mo----"

"Mo?" She laughed. "He is delicious."

"Well----" said he reluctantly, after a pause, "good-bye, Jeanne."

"_Au revoir_--Dog-gie."

"If I shouldn't come back--I mean if we were billeted somewhere
else--I should like to write to you."

"Well--Mademoiselle Bossiere, chez Madame Morin, Frelus. That is the
address."

"And will you write too?"

Without waiting for a reply, he scribbled what was necessary on a
sheet torn from a notebook and gave it to her. Their hands met.

"_Au revoir_, Jeanne."

"_Au revoir_, Dog-gie. But I shall see you again to-night."

"Where?"

"It is my secret. _Bonne chance._"

She smiled and turned to leave the kitchen. Doggie clattered into the
yard.

"Been doin' a fine bit o' coartin', Doggie," said Private Appleyard
from Taunton, who was sitting on a box near by and writing a letter on
his knees.

"Not so much of your courting, Spud," replied Doggie cheerfully. "Who
are you writing to? Your best girl?"

"I be writin' to my own lawful mizzus," replied Spud Appleyard.

"Then give her my love. Doggie Trevor's love," said Doggie, and
marched away through the groups of men.

At the entrance to the barn he fell in with Phineas and Mo.

"Laddie," said the former, "although I meant it at the time as a
testimony of my affection, I've been thinking that what I said to the
young leddy may not have been over-tactful."

"It was taking it too much for granted," explained Mo, "that you and
her were sort of keeping company."

"You're a pair of idiots," said Doggie, sitting down between them, and
taking out his pink packet of Caporal. "Have a cigarette?"

"Not if I wos dying of----Look 'ere," said Mo, with the light on his
face of the earnest seeker after Truth. "If a chap ain't got no food,
he's dying of 'unger. If he ain't got no drink, he's dying of thirst.
What the 'ell is he dying of if he ain't got no tobakker?"

"Army Service Corps," said Phineas, pulling out his pipe.

* * * * *

It was dark when A Company marched away. Doggie had seen nothing more
of Jeanne. He was just a little disappointed; for she had promised. He
could not associate her with light words. Yet perhaps she had kept her
promise. She had said "_Je vous verrai._" She had not undertaken to
exhibit herself to him. He derived comfort from the thought. There
was, indeed, something delicate and subtle and enchanting in the
notion. A