"Nora Sharey!" he repeated. "Why, it was really you, then, dining last night with that fellow Crawshay?"
"Of course it was," she replied, "and I recognised you at once, even in your uniform."
"You know that Jocelyn Thew is here? You saw him with us last night?"
"Yes, I know."
"Stop a moment," Richard Beverley went on. "Let me think, Nora. Jocelyn
Thew must have seen you dining with Crawshay. How does that work out?"
"He doesn't mind," she replied. "Let that stuff alone for a time. I want to look at you. You're fine, Dick, but what does it all mean?"
"I couldn't stick the ranch after the war broke out," he confessed. "I moved up into Canada and took on flying."
"You are fighting out there in France?"
"Have been for six months. Some sport, I can tell you, Nora. I've got a little machine gun that's a perfect daisy. Gee! I've got to pull up. The hardest work we fellows have sometimes is to remember that we mustn't talk about our job. They used to call me undisciplined. I'm getting it into my bones now, though.—Why, Nora, this is queer! I guess we're going to have a cocktail together, aren't we?"
She nodded. He called to a waiter and gave an order. Then he turned and looked at her appreciatively.