"That I promise to allow you to do a favor for me some day?" Sally completed the unfinished sentence. "I suppose that is what you were about to say, wasn't it? Of course you can do whatever kindness you like if you have the chance. But it does not seem probable. After you go away from the farm I can't imagine any reason why we should ever see each other again. Besides, you would do whatever you could for me whether I gave you permission or not." Here Sally smiled a second time. For an instant the French officer stared, nonplussed. But he was not the first person whom Sally had puzzled. She was so matter of fact and so sure of herself one could not tell whether she was extremely simple or correspondingly subtle. Since her companion regarded her as a child, he could have but one impression. When finally he held out his hand, Sally hesitated an instant before placing her own inside his. His exhibition of French courtesy and gratitude at their last meeting had been slightly embarrassing. But this time the lieutenant only held her hand gravely. "You are right, Miss Ashton, whatever was possible to show my gratitude to you I should do, with or without your permission. If I am spared when the war is over I may even create the opportunity which you seem to doubt my ever having. When the war began I had a sister who was, I think perhaps only a few years older than you. If you can ever make up your mind to regard me as she would have done, it would mean a great real to me." Sally was beginning to feel bored. She thought her companion was very conventional and a little stupid. She had not the faintest desire to adopt an unknown young man as a brother. Sally knew herself sufficiently well to realize that the sisterly attitude would make but little appeal to her as long as she lived. And she hoped that her interview with the rescued officer might be entertaining. Life was dull now at the farm with Mrs. Burton away and her own occupation, which had been exciting even if fatiguing, withdrawn. "What happened to your sister?" Sally inquired politely, although intending to make her escape as soon as possible should their conversation continue on such sentimental lines. "She was killed in the retreat when the Germans conquered this part of France at the outbreak of the war. I had gone to the front to join my regiment, so Yvonne and my mother were alone except for my little brother and a few women servants. Our chateau was destroyed." The French officer paused because Sally was looking at him with a curious expression as if an idea which she may have had in her mind for some time was now slowly crystalizing into a fact. "Your sister's name was Yvonne Fleury and your chateau was not far from here, was it not?" Sally demanded. The young officer nodded. He did not care to discuss his past history with Sally or with any one else in the world. There was nothing to be gained by recalling the inevitable tragedies of the war.