“I know, I know!” cried Barry. “And the Canadians, too, have chipped in a bit. We have a Canadian hospital in Paris, for the French, and others are being organised.”
They turned in at the gate and found themselves in a beautiful quadrangle, set out with grass plots and flowers and cement walks. The building itself, an ancient royal palace, had been enlarged by means of sun-parlours and porches which gave it an air of wonderful cheeriness and brightness.
“I will run in and see if any of my friends are about,” said the V. A. D. “Wait here for me. Unless you care to come in,” she added.
“No, I will wait here. I don't just feel like meeting strangers but, if there are Canadians in the hospital, I should like to see them. And perhaps you can discover where my chief can be found, if you don't mind.”
Hardly had she passed within the door, when another car came swiftly to the gate and drew up a little in front of Barry's. A girl leaped from the wheel and with a spring in her step, which spoke of a bounding vitality, ran up the steps.
What thought caught her it is difficult to say, but on the topmost step she spun around and looked straight into Barry's eyes.
“Paula!” he shouted, and was out of the car and at the foot of the steps, with hand outstretched, when, with a single touch of her foot to the steps, she was at him, with both hands reaching for his.
“Barry, oh, Barry! It can't be you!” she panted. Her face went red, then white, then red again. “Oh, it's better than a drink to see you. Whence, how, why, whither? Oh, never mind answering,” she went on. “It's enough to see you.”
A step behind her diverted her attention from Barry. Barry ran up the steps, and taking the V. A. D. by the hand, led her down.
“I want you to meet a friend of mine,” he said and introduced Paula.