“Yes,” she said, quietly.
“I—by gad!—I do love you.”
She touched his cheek gently with her finger. “And there will be many petites minutes,” she said. “We shall have much happiness.”
“I hope so.”
“And you will be fidèle—when you go away from me? You will not find a yo’ng girl at the front—in the trenches? Promise me?” She was laughing gaily now.
“If I find a girl in the trenches,” he said, “I will give her to the boche.”
“It is well,” she said, and clapped her hands merrily.
They were close to the Metro station at the Palais Royal now, and, for their parting, paused in the blackness of a recess.
“I can’t go home with you—do you mind?”
“Ver’ much.”