“When our aeroplanes get here?” she interjected. “My! but our boys have grumbled about aeroplanes. It makes them irritable to see German planes buzzing around.” “Don’t blame them. There are rumors about aeroplanes, too. A _poilu_ asked me the other day if it was true that we had twenty thousand of them over here.” The conversation was following a matter-of-fact, commonplace, impersonal lane—just such a way as Ken had determined it should follow. Yet he was dissatisfied with it. He felt that it lacked something, and that, consequently, Maude and himself were not getting the most out of each other’s company. He had resolved not to talk about himself nor about Maude nor about the sentiments they inspired in each other, but he found himself wanting to do so. The staple, as well as the most absorbing, topic for any young person is himself. It becomes doubly absorbing if two young persons can join and discuss _themselves_ and their reactions to each other.... Maude seemed a trifle bored, he thought. Then, suddenly and with a touch of impatience, she said: “What has been happening to _you_?... And that pretty little girl? What was her name?” She, too, seemed to desire to alter the character of the conversation. Nothing had been happening to him—at least that he could tell her about. He insisted that life had been a dull affair of work and sleep for him. “Nonsense! I’m interested.... Oh, I remember her name—it was Andree. Tell me about Andree.” “She’s a mighty nice little girl. I see her every now and then.” “Every now and then,” she mocked. “When did you see her last?” “Yesterday.” “And before that?” “I was away for a few days.” “But you saw her the night before you went away?” “Yes.” “And if I hadn’t interfered you’d have seen her to-night.” “No—we had no engagement for to-night.” She laughed. “You’re not especially subtle. Are you really in love with this girl?... Do tell me all about her. I know I’m prying and curious—but—Oh, I’m just curious about her.” “I—there’s nothing to tell.” “There must be. How is she different from us American girls? She seemed very attractive—and sweet.” “She says the difference between French and American girls is that you don’t know how to dress your feet,” he said, with an uneasy laugh. It rather pleased him that Maude looked blank an instant and then made an evident effort to look at her footgear. “Do you want to go to the Casino or some other place to-night?” “Not until I’ve found out more about your friend. You know I liked her looks very much.... Why can’t I meet her? She wouldn’t be jealous, would she? You did introduce her, you know. Can’t we have a little party—the three of us?” “No,” he said, with flat finality in his voice. “Why?”