“There you are again. _Pourquoi.... Toujours pourquoi._” “It is well to ask why many times. If one does not ask why, then many unpleasant theengs may happen. If one asks why—then one knows and can weigh the results. _N’est-ce pas?_ I like to know where I am marching.” “I don’t want you to meet Miss Knox, because you would not understand each other at all.” “I theenk we would. But I shall meet her jus’ the same. ... She is the kind of girl Americans marry. I wish to study why.” “She would be studying you, too.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Of course. One woman always studies another. It is natural.... I do not know why, unless it is to determine if the woman can take one’s lover away, or if one can take the woman’s lover away from her.... I theenk that is it.” “But suppose you didn’t want the woman’s lover?” “That is of no importance. It is still ver’ well to be able to say to oneself that it would be possible to take that woman’s lover if it was desired.” “1 don’t like to hear you talk like that!” “_Pourquoi?_” Andree’s eyes were big with surprise. “It doesn’t sound nice.... It sounds—oh, it doesn’t sound like _you_.” She put her cheek against his. “Then I will not say it if you do not like.... I do not want any other man. I want only you.... Do you love me?” “Yes.” “No, I do not believe. You love this yo’ng American girl because she theenks only of marry.... You will marry thees yo’ng girl.” “I’m not going to marry anybody.” “Americans always do. It is the law of the country. You have said it.” “You know I love you.” “I am afraid bicause of thees yo’ng girl.” “Nonsense. I can’t marry anybody, Andree. All I have in the world is my captain’s pay. Nobody can tell how long the war will last, nor how long I will be held in the service after it is over—and when I am discharged ... well, what then? I don’t know. There’s nothing to look forward to but war ... just this and nothing else.” She stroked his hand reflectively. “It is well,” she said, after a moment. “While there is war you shall be here. We shall theenk of nothing else.... _Après la guerre_”—she made a little gesture with both hands—“then we shall see.... I theenk you will be _fidèle_ w’ile it is that you remain in France. I am satisfy—for now.” “You don’t believe I love you.” She mused, and then with that characteristic gesture of poking downward with her index finger she said: “I theenk many things. I theenk that I know jus’ one kind of love, and it ees _love_, it ees for all time and for all thing’. It ees for marry or for not marry. But I theenk you have two kinds of love—_oui_. Perhaps it ees _américain_—the custom of the country. One love for pleasure and—how do you say?—one love for business.... Listen, my friend. Do the pleasure love and the business love never come at the same time and for the same yo’ng girl? Eh?”