She held out her hand.  It was bare, and soft, and warm, as the man took possession of it.

“I feel that way, too,” he said.  “But—­” he broke off and shook his head.  “No.  It’s no use.  You’ve the right notion of this.  Until this war’s fought out there is nothing else for it.  You’ll go right back to your camp and I’ll go to mine.  And we’ll both work out how we can best beat the other.  But let’s make a compact.  We’ll do the thing we know to hurt the other side the most we can.  If need be we’ll neither show the other mercy.  And we’ll promise each to take our med’cine as it comes, and cut out the personal hate and resentment it’s likely to try and inspire.  We’ll be fighting machines without soul or feeling till peace comes.  Then we’ll be just as we are now—­friends.  Can you do it?  I can.”

For all the feeling of the moment Nancy laughed.

“It sounds crazy,” she exclaimed.

“It is crazy.  But so is the whole thing.”

“Yes.  Oh, it surely is.  It’s worst than crazy.”  Passion rang in the girl’s voice.  Then the hazel depths smiled and set the man’s pulses hammering afresh.  “But I’ll make that compact, and I’ll keep it.  Yes.  Now, ‘good-bye,’ and a happy and pleasant trip.”

Their hands fell apart.  Bull had held that hand, so soft and warm and appealing to him, till he dared hold it no longer.

“Thanks,” he said.  “Good-bye.  I can set out with a good heart—­now.”

* * * * *

It was again the luncheon hour.  It was also the hour at which the Empress was scheduled to sail.  Nancy was again on the Terrace.  But now she was standing on the edge of the promenade—­alone.  She was gazing down at the grey waters of the great river, searching with eager eyes, and listening for the “hoot” of the vessel’s siren.  This was the last departure the Empress would make from Quebec for the season.  By the time she returned across the ocean the ice would deny her approach, and she would make port farther seawards.

Nancy had come there in her leisure just out of simple interest, she told herself.  The man was nothing to her.  Oh, no.  She felt a certain regret that they were at war.  She felt a certain pity that it was necessary that so brave a man’s hopes must be crushed and all his plans broken, but that was all.  She told herself these things very deliberately.

And so she had hurried over her mid-day meal, lest she should miss the sight of the Empress steaming out, with Bull Sternford aboard.

The day was cold and grey.  There was snow in the heavy clouds, and the north wind was bitter.  But it mattered nothing.  Waiting there the girl’s feet in their overshoes grew cold.  Her hands were cold.  Even her slim, graceful body under its outer covering of fur was none too warm.  But her whole interest was absorbed and she remained so till the appointed time.

Oh, yes.  It was simply interest in the departure of the vessel that held her.  Just the same, as it was simply interest that stirred her heart and set it a-flutter, as the sound of the ship’s siren came up to her from below.  And surely it was only a ‘God-speed’ to the departing vessel that was conveyed in the fluttering handkerchief she held out and waved, as the graceful giant passed out into the distant mid-channel.