“Thanks, awfully,” said the sergeant, rather surprised. “What is it? A theatre ticket?”
She did not reply at once. He saw that they were passing the end of the trolley line and going on. He had a little thrill of mingled delight and uneasiness. He had had no plans particularly, except to see her again. His only program had been destroyed in the bonfire.
Suddenly she drew the little car up beside the road.
“Have you anything you want particularly to do to-day?” she asked.
“I was just going to play round.”
“Would you like to do a real service? A national service?”
“I seem to be doing it most of the time,” he observed with some bitterness.
“You said yesterday you were going to have your picture taken.”
Good heavens, was this marvel, this creature from another world, going to ask for his photograph?
“I would, but this eye——”