Gerry had not got that far. He was thinking that this strange girl, so unlike any other one whom he had known well, was evidently determined to watch for herself the outcome about Roisel. He was thinking, too, that Roisel was decidedly an inconvenient place for him to visit. To be sure, it was in that direction that Agnes Ertyle would be at work, for the hospital units, to which she was attached, were caring for casualties from the Fifth Army; but till she would be about that part of Picardy, he would have no errands likely to take him there. And he wished that he had; or that this girl would soon again be where he could see her. The days when he could be free from duty were few and brief now; and with the swift onset of spring they were certain to be fewer. For tremendous movements--the most stupendous in all human history--were clearly imminent; men, and women too, were certain to be called upon to die in number beyond all past calculation. Gerry Hull did not think of himself as one of those certain to die; neither did he think of himself as one likely to live. Long ago he had attained that new imbuement of being, independent of all estimates of continuance of self, which was content with disposing of the present hours as best might be. So he had been spending his hours, whenever possible, with Agnes Ertyle; his next distant day was to be with her. And heretofore there had been no other desire to disturb him. Now he was conscious--not of any inclination to spend an hour away from Agnes when he might possibly be with her--but only of concern for this blue-eyed, light-haired, warm, ardent girl from among his own people. “I don’t know what else you’re doing, Cynthia Gail,” he said both names as he had that time he had carried her, “but I suppose it’s dangerous. That’s all right,” he added hastily, “if the danger’s necessary; if it’s not--well, it’s foolishness, you know. I wouldn’t ask you to stop doing anything which could catch us another haul like De Trevenac; but that may be more than a deadly game.” He held out his hand to her and, when she placed hers in his, he held her fingers firmly. “Don’t be foolish, please!” “Don’t you!” she pleaded to him in return; and the sudden broaching of the passion which had been below astounded her as much as it dumfounded him. “You take no regard for yourself--none, none at all!” “That’s--newspaper nonsense,” he managed. He released her hand, but her grasp held him now and he could not break it except violently. “It’s not! I’ve talked to men who know you, who’ve flown with you! They all say the same thing; and they all love you for it; you’ve no regard for yourself, numbers against you or anything when you’ve something you’ve determined to do! You do it! Oh, I wouldn’t have you not--I wouldn’t want you different. But the same need now doesn’t exist!” Her fingers had slipped from him and they stood back a bit, both breathing hard and very flushed as they faced each other.