He was pinning something to my coat, a bronze-colored, cross-shaped something, a decoration that swung proudly from a ribbon of red and green. I knew it well; I had seen it on the breasts of generals, captains, simple poilus, all the picked flower of the French nation. With a thrill I looked down upon it. It was the Cross of War. CHAPTER XXVII A THUNDERBOLT OF WAR The great moment had arrived. General Le Cazeau and his staff were on their way back to Paris. The duke and duchess were at the chateau talking with the _blesses_; for the second time Dunny had tactfully disappeared. The approach of evening had spurred my faltering courage. As the first rosiness of sunset touched the skies beyond Raincy-la-Tour and lay across the water, I sat at the side of the only girl in the world and poured out my plea. “It isn’t fair, you know,” I mourned. “I’ve only a few minutes. I shouldn’t wonder if we heard your car honking for you in half an hour. To make a girl like you look at a man like me would take days of eloquence, and, besides, who would think of marrying any one with his head bound up Turkish fashion as mine is now?” She laughed, and at the silvery sound of it I plucked up a hint of courage; for surely, I thought, she wasn’t cruel enough to make game of me as she turned me down. Still, I couldn’t really hope. She was too wonderful, and my courtship had been too inadequate. Despondent, arms on my knees, I harped upon the same string. “I’ve never had a chance to show you,” I lamented, “that I am civilized; that I know how to take care of you and put cushions behind you and slide footstools under your feet, and--er--all that. We’ve been too busy eluding Germans and racing through forbidden zones and rescuing papers from behind secret panels, for me to wait on you. Good heavens! To think how I’ve done my duty by a hundred girls I shouldn’t know from Eve if they happened along this moment! And I’ve never even sent you a box of _marrons glaces_ or flowers.” She shot a fleeting glance at me. “No,” she agreed, “you haven’t! If you don’t mind my saying so, I think they would have been out of place. At Bleau, for instance, and at Prezelay I hadn’t much time for eating bonbons; but after all you did me one or two more practical services, Mr. Bayne.” “Nothing,” I maintained, my gloom unabated, “that amounted to a row of pins. Though I might have shone, I’ll admit; I can see that, looking back. The opportunity was there, but the man was lacking. I might have been a real movie hero, cool, resourceful, dependable, clear-sighted, a tower of strength; and what I did was to muddle things up hopelessly and waste time in suspecting you and seize every opportunity of trusting people who positively spread their guilt before my eyes.”