“I admire people who say what they mean as much as anybody. But I do object to Van Nostrand, because he’s faintly rotten, and even his wit is literary. He always seems to be rehearsed. Anybody can do that Wilde thing if they study up on it long enough. The point is, is it worth while?”
She laughed with a touch of malice.
“You sound like a book review, Hal. His line is pretty easy, but it’s a line. Nobody ever even tries to be amusing here, and he not only tries but I think he succeeds.”
“It’s from him, I suppose, you got this fellow-feeling for the Germans. Well, he had plenty of opportunity to cultivate it, staying at home.”
Moira gave him a glance of friendliness.
“Oh, it’s such fun to have you back, I don’t care what you say. If you knew all the dreams I’ve had, terrifying dreams, seeing you—hurt and cut up and dead. I’d wake up mad enough to kill Germans myself.”
“Did you really dream about me, Moira?” He pulled his horse closer to hers, leaning as far as he could. The girl’s mount, disliking to be crowded, pranced out of control, and Hal had to swerve away, but he kept his eyes on the straight, slim figure.
“God, Moira, what a beauty you’ve grown!”
She began to murmur aloud:
“When I was one and twenty