[Illustration:  He had some trouble lighting his cigarette and was irritated for a second at his inconvenience]

Was there ever a martial adventure without a love story in it?  Little did it seem to Henry and me as we left our humble homes in Wichita and Emporia to make the world safe for democracy, that we two thick-set, sedentary, new world replicas of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza should be the chaperons and custodians of a love affair.  We were not equipped for it.  We were travelling light, and our wives were three or four thousand miles away.  No middle-aged married man gets on well with a love affair who is out of daily reach of his wife.  For when he gets into the barbed wire tangle of a love affair, he needs the wise counsel of a middle-aged woman.  But here we were, two fat old babes in the woods and here came the Gilded Youth, the Eager Soul and the Young Doctor—­sping! like a German shell—­right into our midst, as it were.

There at Landrecourt we found the Eager Soul, a badly scared young person—­but tremendously plucky!  And mad—­say, that girl was doing a strafing job that would have made the kaiser blush!  And the fine part of it was, that its expression was entirely in repression.  There was no laugh in her face, no joy in her heart, and we scarcely knew the sombre, effective, business-like young person who greeted us.  And then across the court we saw something else that interested us.  For there, walking with his patrician aunt, we saw the Gilded Youth.  Evidently he had heard of the raid, had run over from Valaincourt on some sort of military permission.

“Oh, yes,” answered the Eager Soul to our enquiring eyes.  “Mrs. Chesman—­this is practically her hospital.  I mean she and her group are keeping it equipped and going—­a wonderful work.  I mean here is a real thing for a woman to do.  And, oh, the need of it!”

[Illustration:  “Oh, yes,” answered the Eager Soul to our enquiring eyes.  “Mrs. Chessman—­this is practically her hospital”]

“Nice sort?” This from Henry, observing that there was no move toward us, on the part of the Gilded Youth and Auntie.  Henry may have had his theory for their splendid isolation.  But it received no stimulus when the Eager Soul answered: 

“Oh, yes, I believe so.  I haven’t met her yet.  They all say she is charming.”  Henry looked at me.  She caught the glance.  Then to cover his tracks he grinned and said:  “Charm seems to run in their family.”

“Yes,” she returned amiably.  “One meets so many nice people on the boat.”

And Henry, still in pursuit of useful social information, insisted:  “Well, are they as nice in the war zone as they are—­on the boat?”

We got our first dimple then, and the Eager Soul tucked in a wisp of red hair, as she answered:  “Well, really, I’ve been too busy to know.”  She turned absent-mindedly toward the figure of the Gilded Youth, across the court.  But the dimples and the smile faded and she closed the door firmly and finally on romance, when she said:  “On the record of service shown by my entrance card, they have made me assistant to the new head nurse who is coming over from Souilly to-night.”