Nona laughed and slipped her arm through her companion’s.
“Yes, I will write you to Paris and you need not inform me how impatient you are. I don’t how a great deal about you, but I do know that much.”
Then for the next ten minutes the girl and man walked up and down in the garden, talking, perhaps, of other things, but thinking only of their farewell. Nevertheless, Nona was obdurate in her decision and it was, perhaps, as well for their future that Philip Dawson learned tonight she could hold out against his wish. There were not many people in his world who did this for long.
There was a gate before the hospital and she said good-bye to him standing outside. Just for an instant as she saw his long, slender figure disappearing, Nona had the impulse to call him back. The United States seemed so uncomfortably far away. Nona resisted her inclination.
Besides, almost at the same time an unexpected sound attracted her attention.
Except for Philip who was moving rapidly out of sight, the road before the hospital had appeared to be empty.
It was about ten o’clock and there were no carts or trucks filled with provisions on their way to the camp. The movement back and forth between the neighboring villages took place in the early morning and during the day.
Yet Nona saw two figures coming from the village toward the hospital and from the opposite direction to the one Philip Dawson had used.
Possibly someone had been taken suddenly ill and was being brought to the hospital for care.
A moment later Nona recognized that the newcomers were women, and then that they were Madame Bonnèt and Berthe.