“Why? That’s difficult to put into words, isn’t it? But I know about you—and you must know about me. We just ought to be acquainted better.” “Eet is possible. You will know me. Ver’ well. I also would know you.” “Suppose we have _déjeuner_ together, then. Have you finished your shopping?” “Ever’thing—all is completed.” Maude turned and walked down the stairs with Andree. They did not speak until they had traversed the crowded aisles and reached the street. Each was thinking about the other, but with this difference: Maude was wondering what Andree thought about her, while Andree was not concerned in the least with Maude’s opinion of herself. She thought of Maude only as some one in whom Ken was more interested than she liked, and wondered what this American girl would say to her.... Maude was impressed, not exactly in spite of herself, with Andree’s appearance and manner. The girl was so slender, so dainty, so appealing, so childlike and fragile! One could not help wanting to defend her and befriend her.... But it was not befriending her to wish to take away the man she loved and who loved her, which was the thing that could not but rest in the back of Maude’s mind. She had a feeling that Andree knew that desire was in her mind.... “Let us go to the Petrograd—it is only a few steps. I am living there now. A great many of us American girls live there.” “Ver’ well,” said Andree, who, it seemed, had placed herself on the knees of the gods and was prepared to let events wait upon her at their will. They made their way to the rue Caumartin and turned to the right. Presently they entered the courtyard of the Hôtel Petrograd and made their way to a dining-room well filled with American girls in the uniforms of the various war-service organizations. Selecting a table in a sheltered corner, they ordered luncheon, nor did they speak except of casual matters until they had finished. Andree addressed herself to her plate with that quaint absorption which always delighted Kendall. It touched Maude now, as everything about this appealing little girl touched her. She found herself actually growing fond of Andree as one might grow fond of a lovable child.... And yet she had a certainty that she would not find Andree altogether childlike; that in all matters appertaining to her love she would be all woman and amply potent to defend herself and her rights. “Now we shall speak,” said Andree, looking into Maude’s face with directness, almost with challenge. Her own face, if it showed any expression at all, spoke of hesitation, diffidence. “What shall we talk of?” Maude asked, experimentally. “It is for you to say, mademoiselle. It is you who make the suggestion that we speak together....” Then, with disconcerting directness, “You wish to speak about Monsieur Ware, is it not?” “Yes,” said Maude, “I should like to talk about him—and you.” “It is ver’ well.”