Peter had hardly ever seen her grave before, and her face showed a new aspect of her.  He felt a glow of warmth steal over him.  “I say,” he said, “couldn’t you dine with us to-night?  We’re at the Angleterre, and its tremendously respectable.”

She laughed, her gravity vanishing in a minute.  “I must say,” she said, “that I’d love to see you anywhere really respectable.  He’s a terrible person for a padre—­don’t you think so, Captain Langton?”

“Terrible,” said Langton.  “But really the Angleterre is quite proper.  You don’t get any too bad a dinner, either.  Do come, Miss Gamelyn.”

She appeared to consider.  “I might manage it,” she said at last, stopping just short of entering the square; “but I haven’t the nerve to burst in and ask for you.  Nor will it do for you to see me all the way to that car, or we shall have a dozen girls talking.  If you will meet me somewhere,” she added, looking at Peter, “I’ll risk it.  I’ll have a headache and not go to first dinner; then the first will think I’m at the second, and the second at the first.  Besides, I’ve no duty, and the hospital’s not like Havre.  It’s all spread out in huts and tents, and it’s easy enough to get in.  Last, but not least, it’s Colonial, and the matron is a brick.  Yes, I’ll come.”

“Hurrah!” said Peter.  “I tell you what:  I’ll meet you at the cross-roads below the hospital and bring you on.  Will that do?  What time?  Five-thirty?”

“Heavens! do you dine at five-thirty?” demanded Julie.

“Well, not quite, but we’ve got to get down,” said Peter, laughing.

“All right,” said Julie, “five-thirty, and the saints preserve us.  Look here, I shall chance it and come in mufti if possible.  No one knows me here.”

“Splendid!” said Peter.  “Good-bye, five-thirty.”

“Good-bye,” said Langton; “we’ll go and arrange our menu.”

“There must be champagne,” called Julie merrily over her shoulder, and catching his eye.

The two men watched her make for the car across the sunlit square, then they strolled round it towards a cafe.  “Come on,” said Langton; “let’s have an appetiser.”

From the little marble-topped table Peter watched the car drive away.  Julie was laughing over something with another girl.  It seemed to conclude the morning, somehow.  He raised his glass and looked at Langton.  “Well,” he said, “here’s to reality, wherever it is.”

“And here’s to getting along without too much of it,” said Langton, smiling at him.

* * * * *

The dinner was a great success—­at least, in the beginning.  Julie wore a frock of some soft brown stuff, and Peter could hardly keep his eyes off her.  He had never seen her out of uniform before, and although she was gay enough, she said and did nothing very exciting.  If Hilda had been there she need hardly have behaved differently, and for a while Peter was wholly delighted.  Then