"No. Wasn't thinking of it. As far as I know at present I shall just stay here. But," she said meaningly, "if I were going anywhere it wouldn't be France."
"Where would it be?"
"Belgium's about the last place anybody with his war-experience would go to for a holiday."
"What, Antwerp in August?"
"I don't see. Sorry."
"Aren't they holding the Olympic games there?"
"Ah!... So you think they might draw him?"
"I didn't say so. I don't know as a matter of fact that I should go to Antwerp either. But you once asked me whether I thought I could bring him by just sitting still and loving him. Well"—a victorious smile—"I almost believe I could—now. But I shouldn't cut him sandwiches—now. I shouldn't be just somebody he remembered when he was at a loose end—now. I'd have him keen, George-old-Thing. He'd think anything I gave him a devil of a favour. Look at that wise young minx with the garters there; I'd have him to heel as she has her boy. Look, she's having a cocktail. Order me a cocktail, please."
"Which? Martini? Manhattan? Bronx?"