It was Lucie and Odette who divested Annette of her bridal robes and got her into the simple traveling dress which she was to wear. Annette cried a little as she said good-by, but went off quite proud of her soldier husband, and of being called Madame. Lucie begged to go into the kitchen to help Paulette and Odette to clear up. “It will be less lonely there,” she argued, so Madame Guerin gave permission, and in the drying of fine glass and china, the counting of silver, she passed away the first hours, chattering away to Odette about the events of the day. “She looked very sweet, didn’t she, Odette?” she began. “But so young, like a little girl. Gaspard appeared so much older. I hope he is not too old.” Paulette laughed. “How old might this antiquity be?” she asked. “He is three years older than Victor and Victor was eighteen just after the war began. That is three years ago or nearly so, therefore Victor is twenty-one and Gaspard twenty-four, six years older than Annette. In another year he will be twenty-five, which is far from young.” Paulette laughed again. “Far from young is it? _Ma foi_, mademoiselle, what is one at forty?” “He would be far too old for me to consider for a husband,” replied Lucie diplomatically. “La la, there is time enough for you to be thinking of that.” “But when one’s oldest friend has just married one cannot but think somewhat on the subject. I looked forward to meeting this Mons. Favre. Perhaps he is the one, I told myself, but after I saw him I decided he would never do.” “It is not for little girls to be looking out for husbands,” said Paulette severely. “It is quite out of place. You should leave it to your parents.” “I don’t intend to leave it to them altogether. I intend to have my say in the matter,” returned Lucie decidedly. Paulette threw out her hands with a hopeless gesture. “This comes of having no proper guardian. If we hear any more of these too independent opinions, monsieur your father must be spoken to. You should be in a convent this minute.” This was the most crushing speech Paulette had ever made to her and Lucie was properly subdued. She laid down the towel she held and marched out of the room, determining to hunt up Grandpa Le Brun, who would only laugh at her saucy speeches. CHAPTER XVII THE RETURN When Lucie watched the fluttering ends of Annette’s blue veil disappearing around the corner of the road as she drove away, Lucie little knew that it was the last she should see of her friend for many weeks. It was early spring. The United States had already severed diplomatic relations with Germany and every one was wondering what would happen next. Things were going badly in Russia, but Bagdad had been taken by the British, and the middle of March saw the evacuation by the Germans of French territory from Arras to Soissons.