Hank scowled terribly at Maude, opened his mouth and closed it again, hunched his broad shoulders and felt of his prominent Adam’s apple. “Aw—” he began, and then, “Aw—hell!...” With which well-chosen remark he burst through his comrades and fled headlong. Maude again did the one tactful thing, the one thing that, in those circumstances, not only saved the face of the vanished Hank, but raised her to an elevation in the minds of the soldiers from which she would never descend.... She simply sat down on that scoured floor and laughed and laughed until her cheeks were wet with tears of mirth. So infectious was her laugh that there was not a man but laughed with her. “By Jove!...” exclaimed Captain Morris. “She’s a wonder.” “She is,” said Kendall, soberly. Maude looked up at them. “You officers go away,” she said, severely. “I’m going to be very busy.... No, you boys needn’t go—just the officers....” “I may come back to say good-by?” Kendall asked. “I’ll be leaving in an hour.” “Of course.” When Kendall finished his business with the Assistant Provost Marshal he returned to the canteen. “I’m going,” he said from the door. Maude issued from behind her counter and made her way through a knot of soldiers who had crowded about it. “Good-by,” she said, extending her hand. “It’s been nice to see you.” “It—it has been wonderful to see you,” he said. “I don’t think I shall ever forget this.” He waved his hand around the room. “It isn’t possible.” He smiled whimsically. “I know I’m dreaming the whole thing. You’re really back in Ohio somewhere, probably playing bridge.” “Not bridge—I don’t like bridge. Tennis, maybe.” “And I’m going to wake up in a little while and tell folks what a queer dream I’ve had.” She pinched herself. “See, I’m awake—and you don’t know how glad I am that I am awake—that I am here, seeing this, being a part of this....” “But it isn’t done, you know. There’s nothing in the rules to cover it.... No, Miss Knox, I’m dreaming it—and I’m glad I am dreaming it. If it were real—” His face grew serious. “Perhaps,” she said, “this is the first time you’ve ever seen anything real ... since you came to France. That is it.... France is real, the war is real, Andree is real, I am real.... The only things that aren’t real are the habits and thoughts we were busy with sixty days ago.... Sixty days!...” “Good-by—and don’t forget me.” “I sha’n’t do that. I like you.... Good-by.”