“I’m glad you came instead for another ride with me,” Cynthia said.
He reddened with pleasure. In whatever circles he moved, it was plain he received no great attention from girls.
“I tried to get into army and navy both, Cynthia,” he blurted, apropos of nothing except that he seemed to feel that he owed explanation to her as to why he was not in uniform. “But they turned me down—eyes. Even the Canadians turned me down. But Aunt Emilie’s giving an ambulance; and they’re going to let me drive it. They get under fire sometimes, I hear. On the French front.”
“They’re often under fire,” Cynthia assured. “A lot of ambulance men have been killed and wounded; so that’s no slacker service.”
“Not if you can’t get in anything better,” he said, “but mighty little beside what Gerry Hull’s been doing.”
She startled a little. He had spoken Gerry Hull’s name with far less familiarity than Sam Hilton had uttered it that morning; but Hubert Lennon’s was with the familiarity of one who knows personally the man mentioned.
“You’ve seen him since he’s back?” Cynthia asked. It came to her suddenly that they—he and she—were going to meet Gerry Hull!
The car was slowing before the turn in the driveway for Mrs. Corliss’ city home; a number of cars were ahead and others took line behind for the porte cochère where guests were entering the house.
“Yes; I know him pretty well,” Hubert said with a sort of pitiful pride. He was sensitive to the fact that, when he had spoken of Gerry Hull, her interest in him had so quickened; but he was quite unresentful of it. “I’ll see that he knows you, Cynthia,” he promised.
She sat quiet, trying to think what to say to Hubert Lennon after this; but he did not want the talk brought back to himself. He spoke only of his friend until the man opened the door of the car; the house door was opened at the same moment; and Cynthia, gathering her coat about her and clutching close to her knitting bag, stepped out of the car and into the hall, warm and scented with hot-house flowers, murmurous with the voices and movement of many people in the big rooms beyond. A man servant directed her to a room where maids were in attendance and where she laid off her coat. She had never in her life been at any affair larger than a wedding or a reception to a congressman at Onarga; so it was a good deal all at once to find oneself a guest of Mrs. Corliss’, for it was plain that this reception was by no means a public affair but that the guests all had been carefully selected; it was more to be present carrying a knitting bag (fortunately many others brought knitting bags) in which were twenty-three hundred dollars and a passport to France; and something more yet to meet Gerry Hull—or rather, have him meet you. For when she came out to the hall again, Hubert was waiting for her.