“It’s rather small for you, isn’t it?” asked the girl, throwing in the clutch. “My brother has to fold up too. He’s in France,” she added. “That’s why I like to do things for the soldiers here. It’s like doing something for him.”
Sergeant Gray pondered this. He considered it rather an unusual thing for a girl to have thought of. He considered that she was as nice as she was pretty. He also considered that she drove well. Sergeant Gray, who in his leisure hours practiced running a motorcycle with the side car in the air, paid her tribute of approval.
“We’ll be over soon,” he said with a touch of pride.
“You’d better not tell anybody that.”
“Why? I rather think our being here tells the story.”
“Well, a lot of people would like to know just when you’re going. They hang round the men and offer them rides in cars, and the men get to talking, and pretty soon they’ve told all they know.”
“They’d better not try it on me.”
“You almost told me a moment ago.”
Sergeant Gray sat quiet and a trifle hurt.
“I am only warning you,” said the girl. “There are spies simply everywhere. I can’t do much, and that’s my way of doing something. That and being a sort of taxi,” she added.