Paulette laughed again. “Far from young is it? Ma foi, mademoiselle, what is one at forty?”
“He would be far too old for me to consider for a husband,” replied Lucie diplomatically.
“La la, there is time enough for you to be thinking of that.”
“But when one’s oldest friend has just married one cannot but think somewhat on the subject. I looked forward to meeting this Mons. Favre. Perhaps he is the one, I told myself, but after I saw him I decided he would never do.”
“It is not for little girls to be looking out for husbands,” said Paulette severely. “It is quite out of place. You should leave it to your parents.”
“I don’t intend to leave it to them altogether. I intend to have my say in the matter,” returned Lucie decidedly.
Paulette threw out her hands with a hopeless gesture. “This comes of having no proper guardian. If we hear any more of these too independent opinions, monsieur your father must be spoken to. You should be in a convent this minute.”
This was the most crushing speech Paulette had ever made to her and Lucie was properly subdued. She laid down the towel she held and marched out of the room, determining to hunt up Grandpa Le Brun, who would only laugh at her saucy speeches.
CHAPTER XVII
THE RETURN
WHEN Lucie watched the fluttering ends of Annette’s blue veil disappearing around the corner of the road as she drove away, Lucie little knew that it was the last she should see of her friend for many weeks. It was early spring. The United States had already severed diplomatic relations with Germany and every one was wondering what would happen next. Things were going badly in Russia, but Bagdad had been taken by the British, and the middle of March saw the evacuation by the Germans of French territory from Arras to Soissons.