She led the way to the bench. They sat down together, and for a feminine second or two took stock of each other. Jeanne's first rebellious instinct said: "I was right." In her furs and her perfect millinery and perfect shoes and perfect black silk stockings that appeared below the short skirt, Peggy, blue-eyed, fine-featured, the fine product of many generations of scholarly English gentlefolk, seemed to incarnate her vague conjectures of the social atmosphere in which Doggie had his being. Her peasant blood impelled her to suspicion, to a half-grudging admiration, to self-protective jealousy. The Englishwoman's ease of manner, in spite of her helter-skelter French, oppressed her with an angry sense of inferiority. She was also conscious of the blue overall and close-fitting cap. Yet the Englishwoman's smile was kind and she had lost her husband.... And Peggy, looking at this girl with the dark, tragic eyes and refined, pale face and graceful gestures, in the funny instinctive British way tried to place her socially. Was she a lady? It made such a difference. This was the girl for whom Doggie had performed his deed of knight-errantry; the girl whom she proposed to take back to Doggie. For the moment, discounting the uniform which might have hidden a midinette or a duchess, she had nothing but the face and the gestures and the beautifully modulated voice to go upon, and between the accent of the midinette and the duchess--both being equally charming to her English ear--Peggy could not discriminate. She had, however, beautiful, capable hands, and took care of her finger-nails. Jeanne broke the tiny spell of embarrassed silence. "I am at your disposal, madame." Peggy plunged at once into facts. "It may seem strange, my coming to you; but the fact is that my cousin, Monsieur Trevor, is severely wounded...." "_Mon Dieu!_" said Jeanne. "And his friend, Mr. McPhail, who is also wounded, thinks that if you--well----" Her French failed her--to carry off a very delicate situation one must have command of language--she could only blurt out--"_Il faut comprendre, mademoiselle. Il a fait beaucoup pour vous._" She met Jeanne's dark eyes. Jeanne said: "_Oui, madame, vous avez raison. Il a beaucoup fait pour moi._" Peggy flushed at the unconscious correction--"_beaucoup fait_" for "_fait beaucoup_." "He has done not only much, but everything for me, madame," Jeanne continued. "And you who have come from England expressly to tell me that he is wounded, what do you wish me to do?" "Accompany me back to London. I had a telegram this morning to say that he had arrived at a hospital there." "Then you have not seen him?" "Not yet." "Then how, madame, do you know that he desires my presence?" Peggy glanced at the girl's hands clasped on her lap, and saw that the knuckles were white. "I am sure of it." "He would have written, madame. I only received one letter from him, and that was while I still lived at Frelus."