"Oh, we settled that battery. They tell me it's torn all to pieces. When our doughboys heard the Red Cross girl was killed they were wild. The gunners smashed the German position to smithereens. But it was awful for her, poor thing.
"The station needs supplies dreadfully, just the same," added Charlie Bragg. "And somebody who knows about 'em. I told the médicin-chef I'd speak to you myself, Miss Ruth——"
"I'll go with you. They can get along at Clair without me for a few days, I am sure."
"Good," returned Charlie, and moved over a little to make room on the seat for her. Major Marchand said:
"There must be something big going on over there. Is it a general advance, Monsieur?"
Ruth flashed him a look and laid her fingers gently on Charlie Bragg's arm. The ambulance driver was by no means dull.
"I can't say what is on foot," he said to the French officer. "I should think you might know more about it than I do," he added.
His engine began to rattle the somewhat infirm car. Charlie winked openly at Henriette, who laughed at him. The car began to move. Major Marchand stood beside the road and bowed profoundly again to Ruth—that bow from the hips. It was German, that bow; it proved that his military education had not been wholly gained in France.
She could not help doubting the loyalty of Major Henri Marchand as well as that of his older brother, the present count. Their mother might be the loveliest lady in the world, but there was something wrong with her sons.
Here the younger one was idling away his time about the chateau, or in Paris, so it was said, while the count had suddenly disappeared and was not to be found at all! Neither had been engaged in any dangerous work on the battle front. It was all very strange.