“We have all tried, my father, our friends, our relatives. The German line is like a sealed wall, one cannot tell what goes on behind it, but we hope, always we hope. Others have come back and so will she. Now that you have come the war will soon be over.”
“Pray God it will. Couldn’t you find a better place than this to live in, Lucie? There are many quite good houses at the other end of the town.”
“Yes, but they are not ours; this is home.”
“You poor, dear, loyal little thing. I know that is the way all the French feel; a foot of earth that is their very own is worth more than another’s acres. Well, we shall have to see about getting a roof on your house, and some windows and doors set in. Has your father seen it?”
“No, we do not wish that he see it till we have it better.”
He smiled at her phrasing. “Well, I must be going. Time’s up. I shall try to see you every day. I don’t know how long we shall be here, not very long, I fancy. By the way, who is that peach of a girl at the canteen?”
“You mean Miss Lowndes? She is my very dear friend.”
“You show good taste. She is a perfect pippin.” And Philip walked off, leaving his little niece looking admiringly after him.
He made a second call upon Miss Lowndes the next morning. “I am Lieutenant Randolph,” he announced himself, “Lucie Du Bois’s uncle. She tells me you are a friend of hers, and I am wondering what we can do to better things for her. She shouldn’t be living in that little hovel all mixed up with the others. They may be used to it, but she isn’t.”
“She prefers it, you see. It has been her one desire to get back here to her old home, no matter in what condition it might be.”