“Yes.” Ken did want to walk. He wanted to tire himself so that he could sleep, for he was afraid of a sleepless night. So they started off briskly, cutting through dark and narrow streets to the Boulevard Haussmann and thence into the Avenue Friedland, which they followed to the rue Beaujon and into the Avenue Hoche. They climbed the stairs of the apartment, and Bert, as was his custom, searched the cupboards to see if Arlette had left anything unconcealed that might be eaten. But Arlette had been careful, as usual, and nothing was to be found except a box of dry cookies. It was not Arlette’s intention that her young officers should waste their substance by eating up her supplies at unexpected hours. Ken dreaded to go into his room alone and turn off the lights, so it was Bert who made the first movement to go to bed. Ken carried in with him a sleep-provoking book on militarism which an earnest friend had forced upon him, undressed, and stretched himself on the bed with the small light on his table to read by. He forced himself to read ... and presently fell asleep. The next day was filled with errands and shopping. He wandered about the stores, selecting inexpensive souvenirs for his friends and presents for his mother and father. It was hot, and it irritated him to push and shove in the milling crowds that jammed the Printemps and the Galeries Lafayette, but it kept him busy and gave him an excuse for pushing his decision another hour and still another hour into the future.... His last errand was the selection of a present for Andree, a farewell gift, or a gift of some other sort. There had to be a gift, so he spent more money than he could afford in a little bracelet of gold set with tiny pearls.... Then he went home, for it was near the dinner hour. Bert was there before him, wearing such an expression of sheepishness and chagrin as Kendall had never seen before on his friend’s face. “Where’s Madeleine?” he asked. Bert grinned mirthlessly. “Don’t know,” he said. “Isn’t she coming?” “I left a note at her hotel inviting her.” “Didn’t see her?” “No. I went around to the hotel and there was a small boy in the _concierge’s_ room. He said Madeleine was out with an American officer.... Then I went up the street, and pretty soon I thought I saw her with a lieutenant. They were a block away and I hustled up to make sure, but they turned off and disappeared. Looked like she caught sight of me and ducked.... Anyhow, I went back and left a note. Maybe I was mistaken.” “Serves you right,” said Ken. “You were so darn sure—you with your understandings.... Three weeks were too much for her, and she’s passed you up for somebody who isn’t always telling her she’s just a temporary arrangement.” “Go chase yourself,” said Bert. “It makes no difference in my young life.”