She leaned forward, shoulders drooping, a huddled bit of black in the loose cloak she wore.  He waited.  At length she drew her shoulders up with a quick intake of breath.  She held this a moment, her chin lifted.

“There, now I’ve decided,” she said.

“What?”

“I’m not going back.”

“No?”

“Not going through any more fuss.  I’m too tired.  It seemed as if I’d never get here, never get out of that dreadful place, never get out of Paris, never get out of Brest, never get off the boat, never get home!  I’m too tired for any more never gets.  I’m not going to have talking and planning and arguments and tearful relatives forever and a day more.  See if I do!  I’m here, and I’m not going to break it again.  I’m not going back!”

He reached down to pat her hand with a humouring air.

“Where will you go?”

“That’s up to you.”

“But what can I——­”

“I’m going where you go.  I tell you I’m too tired to have any talk.”

He sat down beside her.

“Yes, you’re a tired child,” he told her.

She detected the humoring inflection.

“None of that!  I’m tired, but I’m stubborn.  I’m not going back.  I’m supposed to be sleeping soundly in my little bed.  In the morning, before I’m supposed to be up, I’ll issue a communique from—­any old place; or tell ’em face to face.  I won’t mind that a little bit after everything’s over.  It’s telling what’s going to be and listening to talk about it that I won’t have.  I’m not up to it.  Now you talk!”

“You’re tired.  Are you too tired to know your own mind?”

“No; just too tired to argue with it, fight it; and I’m free, white, and twenty-one; and I’ve read about the self-determination of small peoples.”

“Say, aren’t you afraid?”

“Don’t be silly!  Of course I’m afraid!  What is that about perfect love casting out fear?—­don’t believe it!  I’m scared to death—­truly!”

“Go back till to-morrow.”

“I won’t!  I’ve gone over all that.”

“All right!  Shove off!”

He led her to the ambushed Can, whose blemishes became all too apparent in the merciless light of the moon.

“What a lot of wound chevrons it has!” she exclaimed.

“Well, I didn’t expect anything like this.  I could have got——­”

“It looks like a permanent casualty.  Will it go?”

“It goes for me.  You’re sure you don’t think it’s better to——­”

“On your way!” she gayly ordered, but her voice caught, and she clung to him a moment before entering the car.  “No; I’m not weakening—­don’t you think it!  But let me rest a second.”

She was in the car, again wearily gay.  The Can hideously broke the quiet.

“Home, James!” she commanded.

* * * * *

Dawn found the car at rest on the verge of a hill with a wide-sweeping view over and beyond the county seat of Newbern County.  Patricia slept within the fold of his arm.  At least half of the slow forty miles she had slept against his shoulder in spite of the car’s resounding progress over a country road.  Once in the darkness she had wakened long enough to tell him not to go away.