“Seven o’clock.”
“Yes.... And you will not fail?”
“No.”
“Good night.”
He was of a mind to kiss her good night as he had kissed American girls whom he had taken home from parties and with whom he had played about, but he hesitated. He didn’t want to spoil things, to make her take fright and disappear. She was becoming too much a delightful element in his life for him to take a chance of losing her now.... And while he hesitated she was gone.
As mysteriously as she appeared out of the mazes of the enormous city she disappeared into them again, and Bert was apprehensive lest she fail to reappear. He need not have been apprehensive. There is in life a thread of fate, of destiny, which attaches one person to another, so that, even though they separate to the ends of the earth, they will be drawn together again at some spot in some hour.... Destiny had woven a strand between Andree and Kendall....
CHAPTER V
Kendall Ware and Bert Stanley went early to petit déjeuner in the dining-room of the Union, for they had decided to move before the day’s work began. The waitress laid her order-slips on the table, and as she did so Kendall noticed that her eyes were red and swollen with weeping and that it was with difficulty that she restrained her sobs.
“Mademoiselle is sad this morning,” he said, sympathetically.
“Oui, monsieur, very sad.... Oh, it is my brother! The word came in the night. The boches have killed him....”