She hesitated for a moment and then said as though she regretted having to speak the truth.-- "I write a journal." I could not prevent myself from replying too eagerly--. "Oh! I should like to see it!--er--I write one too!"-- She was silent. I felt nervous again--. "Do you put down your impressions of people--and things?" "I suppose so--." "Why does one write a journal?--" I wanted to hear what she would answer. "One writes journals if one is lonely." "Yes, that is true. Then you are lonely?" Again she conveyed to me the impression that I had shown bad taste in asking a personal question--and I felt this to be unjust, because in justice, she would have been forced to admit that her words were a challenge. "You explain to me why one writes journals, and then when I presume upon the inference you snub me--You are not fair, Miss Sharp--" "It would be better to stick to business," was all she answered--"will you dictate, please?" I was utterly exasperated--. "No, I won't!--If you only admit by inference that you are lonely, I say it right out--I am abominably lonely this morning and I want to talk to you.--Did I see you at the Duchesse de Courville-Hautevine's on Wednesday last?" "Possibly." I literally had not the pluck to ask her what she was doing there. However, she went on--. "There are still many wounded who require bandages--." That was it! of course--she was bringing bandages! "She is a splendid woman, the Duchesse, she was a friend of my mother's--" I said. Miss Sharp looked down suddenly--she had her head turned towards the window. "There are many splendid women in France--but you don't see them--the poor are too wonderful, they lose their nearest and dearest and never complain, they only say it is '_la Guerre_!'." "Have you any near relations fighting?"-- "Yes"-- It was too stupid having to drag information out of her like this--I gave it up--and then I was haunted by the desire to know what relations they were?--If she has a father he must be at least fifty--and he must be in the English Army--why then does she seem so poor?--It can't be a brother--her's is only thirteen--would a cousin count as a near relation?--or--can she have a _fiancé_--?! The sudden idea of this caused me a nasty twinge--But no, her third finger has no ring on it.--I grew calmer again--. "I feel you have a hundred thousand interesting things to say if you would only talk!" I blurted out at last. "I am not here to talk, Sir Nicholas--I am here to do your typing." "Does that make a complete barrier?--Won't you be friends with me?" Burton came into the room at that moment--and while he was there she slipped off to her typing without answering me. Burton has arranged a place for her in his room, which is next to mine, so that I shall not be disturbed by the noise of her machine clicking. "Miss Sharp must lunch with me"--I said. Burton coughed as he answered. "Very good, Sir Nicholas."