“Stay where you are.”
Floyd’s hand went out to meet Martin’s; he’d come back from the front, and they had known each other all their lives.
“I landed today. I feel like a stranger in a foreign land. Will you let me have a bite with you?”
He hadn’t changed; heavily tanned; a little more muscular; a little louder. He grasped Julie’s hand, and held it fast. There was a slight heaving under the red rose; her cheeks had lost their color. He absorbed everything with those eyes of his. She felt the loose gown hanging from her shoulders, and drew it around her full bosom. He turned to Floyd, with a laughing question in his eyes. Floyd laughed back; he couldn’t help feeling a sense of triumph.
Martin was very entertaining, told amusing stories in French; there was something pathetic in his efforts to please. Julie took a childish delight in his medals. Floyd’s face clouded over; Martin took them from her hand.
“They mean nothing to me.”
“You should be proud of them,” insisted Julie. “They are a reward for bravery. You were brave. We read about you.”
“I wouldn’t give the others the satisfaction of thinking me a coward.”
“But you were afraid at first; it’s only natural.”
He turned and looked straight at her.