They turned off the promenade into a boulevard lined with the usual avenue of trees.  It was dusk now, and looked darker by contrast with the street lamps.  Small tram-cars rushed by now and again, with clanging bells and platforms crowded before and behind, and there were plenty of people in the street, Julie turned abruptly.

“I say, Tommy,” she said, “Captain Donovan wants us to go out to dinner.  What do you say?  My shoes can wait, and we needn’t be in till eight-thirty.  It’s not more than six now.  It will be a spree.”

“I’m game; but where are we going?”

“I suggest Travalini’s, padre,” said Donovan.

“Not for me;” said Miss Raynard; “it’s too public and you seem to forget, Captain’ Donovan, that we are forbidden to dine with officers.”

“Nobody is likely to give us away, Tommy,” said Miss Gamelyn.

“I’m not going to take the risk in uniform.  Let’s go to a quiet hotel, or else to some very French place.  That would be fun.”

“A jolly good idea,” cried Donovan, “and I know what will just fix us up.  Come on.”

Tommy smiled.  “Probably it will fix us up.  Tell us about it first.”

“It’s absolutely safe,” Donovan protested.  “It’s quite French, and we shall get one knife and fork each.  There’s a cinema on top, and billiards underneath, and practically no officers go.  A Belgian Captain I came out with took me.  He said you could ‘eat well’ there, and you can, for the cooking is a treat.  I swear it’s all right.”

“Lead on,” said Julie; “we’ll trust you,” and she manoeuvred so that her half-section was left with Donovan.

The four walked briskly through the dusk.  “Don’t you love France in the evening?” demanded Julie.

“Yes,” said Peter, but dubiously.  “I don’t know it much yet,” he added.

“Oh, I do.  Even a girl can almost do what she likes out here.  I’ve had some awful fun in Havre.  I think one ought to take one’s pleasure when one has the chance, don’t you?  But some of these girls give me the hump; they’re so narrow.  They can’t see you with a man without imagining all sorts of things, whereas I’ve had some rattling good pals among men out here.  Then they’re so afraid of doing things—­the girls, I mean.  Do you know I went to Paris when I came up here from Boulogne?  Had absolutely the time.  Of course, nobody knows, so don’t speak of it—­except Tommy, of course.”

“How did you do it?” demanded Peter, amused.

“Well, you see, I and another girl, English, were sent over by Boulogne, as you know, because you saw us on the boat, and we were supposed to come straight here.  In the train we met a Canadian in the French Air Service, and he put us wise about changing, and so on.  But it appeared you have to change at Amiens in the middle of the night, and he said the thing was to sleep in the train and go right on to Paris.  Then you got twenty-four hours there,