At five o’clock he was back and he was very pale and wore what Aggie considered a haunted look. He stalked in and stood, his cap in his hand.
“I’ll go,” he said. “I’ll go, and I don’t give a—I don’t care whether I come back or not. That’s clear, isn’t it? I’ll go as far as you will, Miss Tish, and I take it that means moving right along. I’ll go there, and then I’ll keep on going.”
“You’ve seen Hilda!” Aggie exclaimed with the intuition of her own experience in matters of the heart.
“I’ve seen her,” he said grimly. “I wasn’t looking for her. I’ve given that up. She was with that—well, you know. If I had any sense I’d have stolen those photographs and mailed them to her, one at a time. Five days, one each day, I’d have——”
“You might save all that hate for the Germans,” Tish said. “I don’t care to promise anything, but I have an idea that you may have a chance to use it.”
And again, as always, our dear Tish was right.
We left Paris that evening. We made up quite comfortable beds in the ambulance, which had four new tires and which Tish with her customary forethought had filled as full as possible with cigarettes and candy. I have never inquired as to where Tish secured these articles, but I have learned that very early Tish adopted an army term called salvage, which seems to consist of taking whatever is necessary wherever it may be found. For instance, she has always referred to the night when she salvaged the ambulance and the extra tires; and the night later on, when we found the window of a warehouse open and secured seven cases of oranges for some of our boys who had no decent drinking water, she also referred to our actions at that time as salvage.
In fact, so common did the term become that I have heard her speaking of the time we salvaged the town of V——.
In re the matter of passports—in re is also military, and means referring to, or concerning; I find a certain tendency myself to use military terms. In re the matter of passports and permits, since the authenticity of our adventure has recently been challenged here at home, particularly in our church, though we have been lifelong members, it is a strange fact that we never required any. The sacred emblem on the ambulance and ourselves, including Mr. Burton, was amply sufficient. And though there were times when Mr. Burton found it expedient to lie in the back of the car and emit slow and tortured groans I have always contended that it was not really necessary in the two months which followed.
Over those two months I shall pass lightly. Our brave Tish was almost incessantly at the wheel, and we distributed uncounted numbers of cigarettes and so on. We had, naturally, no home other than the ambulance, but owing to Tish’s forethought we found, among other articles in the secret compartment under the floor, a full store of canned goods and a nest of cooking kettles.