a curtain of fire and smoke and shrieking shells and dying groans, so deep in the background of her memory were the people and events of her merely personal life.  One of the young women was very tall, with a slim dashing figure, fine fair hair, keen cold gray eyes, a haughty nostril and upper lip:  a beauty of the patrician American type.  The other was shorter but also excessively thin, with dark dancing eyes, a warm color, a coquettish nose and pouting lips—­which somehow invoked the complacent visage of the late Herr Graf Niebuhr—­and a brilliant smile.  In a moment Gisela recognized Ann Howland Prentiss and Kate Terriss, now Mrs. Tolby.  This American friend of her childhood had married an American whose business kept him in London, and her path and Gisela’s had never crossed since her finishing days in Berlin; although she had corresponded with Lili for two or three years and knew the family history in vague outline.

Gisela skated directly over to them and held out her hand to Kate.  “It is a long while,” she said, “but perhaps you remember me—­”

“Do I?  Ann will not believe me—­that you are Gisela von Niebuhr not Doering.  What a lark that was to run off to America and fool everybody!  I wish I had come across you.  It would have been quite dramatic to tear off the mask of the governess and reveal the junker.  I think it was too stupid of you, Ann, that you didn’t guess.”

“I noticed many inconsistencies,” said Mrs. Prentiss dryly.  She added, holding out her hand with a charming smile:  “But later, I was so proud to have known Gisela Doering, that personal curiosity seemed impertinent.  How we have missed your writings these last dreadful years!”

Then all three began to talk at once and Gisela gathered that Mrs. Tolby had nursed behind the British lines in France since the early days of the war, and that her old friend, Mrs. Prentiss, had joined her a few months since.  Kate asked innumerable questions about the other girls, particularly Mariette, whom she remembered as a Germanic blonde of warm coloring, the coldest eyes, the most subtly rigid and ruthless mouth she had ever seen.  She had found some difficulty picturing her as a Red Cross nurse and was not surprised to hear that she was in charge of an enormous organization for the supply of cantines.  Of her executive ability and quick determination there could be no doubt—­as she told Ann Prentiss later.

In the excitement and exhilaration of this purely feminine conversation—­which soon included Heloise and Mimi—­the two parties forgot the gory chasm that divided them.  When they dropped suddenly at a chance word to the present that gripped even these glittering snow fields with its red insatiable fingers, Kate, as ever, was equal to the formidable moment and cried out, snapping her fingers at the blue ether so tranquilly aloof from warring hosts: 

“Forget it!  For to-day, at least.  What are you thinking about so hard, Ann?”