“He would not,” said Miss Raynard....  “Come on, Julie.”

Peter hesitated a second.  Then he said:  “You’re going my way.  May I see you home?”

“Thanks,” said Miss Raynard, and they all made a move.

“It’s deuced dark,” said Donovan.  “Here, let me.  I’ll go first with a candle so that you shan’t miss the duck-boards.”

He passed out, Tommy Raynard after him.  Peter stood back to let Julie pass, and as she did so she said:  “You’re very glum and very polite to-night, Solomon.  What’s the matter?”

“Am I?” said Peter; “I didn’t know it.  And in any case Donovan is all right, isn’t he?”

He could have bitten his tongue out the next minute.  She looked at him and then began to laugh silently, and, still laughing, went out before him.  Peter followed miserably.  At the gate Donovan said good-bye, and the three set out for the hospital.  Miss Raynard walked between Peter and Julie, and did most of the talking, but the ground was rough and the path narrow, and it was not until they got on to the dock road that much could be said.

“This is the best Christmas I’ve ever had,” declared Miss Raynard.  “I’m feeling positively done up.  There was something on every afternoon and evening last week, and then Julie sits on my bed till daybreak, more or less, and smokes cigarettes.  We’ve a bottle of benedictine, too, and it always goes to her head.  The other night she did a Salome dance on the strength of it.”

“It was really fine,” said Julie.  “You ought to have seen me.”

“Till the towel slipped off:  not then, I hope,” said Tommy dryly.

“I don’t suppose he’d have minded—­would you, Peter?”

“Not a bit,” said Peter cheerfully—­“on the contrary.”

“I don’t know if you two are aware that you are positively indecent,” said Tommy.  “Let’s change the subject.  What’s your news, Captain Graham?”

Peter smiled in the dark to himself.  “Well,” he said, “not much, but I’m hoping for leave soon.  I’ve pushed in for it, and our Adjutant told me this morning he thought it would go through.”

“Lucky man!  I’ve got to wait three months.  But yours ought to be about now, Julie.”

“I think it ought,” said Julie shortly.  Then:  “What about the menu-cards, Peter?  Would you like me to help you choose them?”

“Would you?” said he eagerly.  “To-morrow?”

“I’m on duty at five o’clock, but I can get off for an hour in the afternoon.  Could you come, Tommy?”

“No.  Sorry; but I must write letters.  I haven’t written one for ages.”

“Nor have I,” said Julie, “but I don’t mean to.  I hate letters.  Well, what about it, Peter?”

“I should think we had better try that stationer’s in the Rue Thiers,” he said.  “If that won’t do, the Nouvelles Galleries might.  What do you think?”

“Let’s try the Galleries first.  We could meet there.  Say at three, eh?  I want to get some baby-ribbon, too.”