On the Sunday following Bob’s and Alan’s arrival the two convalescents declared themselves longing for a little exercise. Lucy and Michelle, finding it hard work to keep them quiet inside the hospital, proposed a short walk through the forest.
“Seems to be your one idea of amusement here—a walk in the forest,” said Larry, who had come out to dinner and, together with Armand, volunteered to join the party.
“It is,” said Lucy. With faint irony she added, “Perhaps you’d rather take a walk around and around the clearing?”
“You will see it is pleasant in the wood,” put in Michelle. “And there we often meet the little Boche children of Franz the bucheron.”
“You and Bob and Lucy have all sorts of queer friends, Mlle. de la Tour,” observed Alan, walking cautiously on the uneven ground, for his foot hurt him. “When I first saw Bob in Archangel he was having an all-day talk with a wild-looking Bolshevik who pretended to be something different——”
“He was, too, if you mean Androvsky,” interrupted Bob.
“And no sooner do we get to Berlin,” continued Alan, unheeding, “than he finds an old German friend and fetches her along to Coblenz.”
“Oh, but Elizabeth is pro-Ally, Alan,” protested Lucy eagerly. “She has been for two years. Can’t you get that through your head?”
“It took me a long time to do so,” said Michelle, smiling. “You remember, Lucy, how I would not believe?”
“Yes, I don’t blame you.” Lucy caught her friend’s arm with swift recollection of Château-Plessis and the days of captivity. “But once you knew her you couldn’t help trusting her.”