If only he could have won back to his own trench, and, later, when the company returned to Frelus, he could have handed her the packet and seen the light come into those wonderful eyes! * * * * * Anyhow, she had received it. She sent him a thousand thanks. How did she look, what did she say when she cut the string and undid the seals and found her little fortune? Translate Jeanne into a princess, the dirty waterproof package into a golden casket, himself into a knight disguised as a squire of low degree, and what more could you want for a first-class fairy-tale? The idea struck Doggie at the moment of "lights out," and he laughed aloud. "It doesn't take much to amuse some people," growled his neighbour, Penworthy. "Sign of a happy disposition," said Doggie. "What've you got to be happy about?" "I was thinking how alive we are, and how dead you and I might be," said Doggie. "Well, I don't think it funny thinking how one might be dead," replied Penworthy. "It gives me the creeps. It's all very well for you. You'll stump around for the rest of your life like a gentleman on a wooden leg. Chaps like you have all the luck; but as soon as I get out of this, I'll be passed fit for active service ... and not so much of your larfing at not being dead. See?" "All right, mate," said Doggie. "Good night." Penworthy made no immediate reply; but presently he broke out: "What d'you mean by talking like that? I'd hate being dead." A voice from the far end of the room luridly requested that the conversation should cease. Silence reigned. * * * * * A letter from Jeanne. The envelope bore a French stamp with the Frelus postmark, and the address was in a bold feminine hand. From whom could it be but Jeanne? His heart gave a ridiculous leap and he tore the envelope open as he had never torn open envelope of Peggy's. But at the first two words the leap seemed to be one in mid-air, and his heart went down, down, down like an aeroplane done in, and arrived with a hideous bump upon rocks. "_Cher Monsieur_" _Cher Monsieur_ from Jeanne--Jeanne who had called him "Dog-gie" in accents that had rendered adorable the once execrated syllables. _Cher Monsieur!_ And the following, in formal French--it might have been a convent exercise in composition--is what she said: