And the change had been gradually taking place in Sally ever since the day of her meeting with Lieutenant Robert Fleury and of Private Dan Webster on the streets of Paris.
Since childhood Dan and Sally had known each other, had played together when Mrs. Ashton brought her two little girls to the old Webster farm in New Hampshire, near the original Camp Fire grounds.
As, at the time of Dan’s invitation, they were not far from the railroad station, in something over half an hour Sally and Dan had reached Paris.
“I thought we would drive out the Champs Elysee and into the Bois, Sally,” Dan explained, signaling a cab, as soon as he had guided his companion out of the crowd and on to the edge of the sidewalk.
“It is such a beautiful afternoon I don’t want you to miss being out of doors. And as I want to have an intimate talk with you, this would seem about as good an opportunity as we can ever have.”
Nodding her agreement, Sally allowed Dan to assist her into the dilapidated cab with as much grace and dignity as if she had been entering a royal coach. But Sally was the type of girl who very much enjoyed men wait upon her and take care of her in the small matters of life; although perfectly capable of caring for herself, she had too much wisdom always to reveal it.
Settling back now into the seat of the cab Sally remarked amiably, as she was feeling in an unusually cheerful frame of mind:
“Well Dan, what in the world can you have to talk to me about that requires all this secrecy? All I can say is that you are looking fifty percent better than when I discovered you. So please remember if you have anything unpleasant to say that you owe your improvement to me.”
In spite of the fact that Sally was talking in this agreeable fashion, Dan was perfectly aware that at the moment she was paying but little attention to him, or to what he might possibly be going to say.
They had reached the Champs Elysees and were now moving on toward the Arc de Triomphe. Down the broad avenue the “marrons,” or horse chestnut trees were green if not yet in bloom, while apparently every person of leisure who was not visiting the park at Versailles this afternoon was driving out toward the Bois.