"Was he killed—that vedette on the Récollette, Philippa?"
She knew what he meant, smiled faintly:
"Does anybody see Death and live to say so?"
"Of course I knew," he said.
They turned back, walking slowly. He had drawn her arm through his, but it rested there very lightly, scarcely in contact at all.
"What a fine fellow Halkett is!" he said.
"Your friends should be fine, Jim. Our friends ought to reflect our own qualities and mirror our aspirations.... That was written in one of my school-books," she added with that delicate honesty which characterized her.
"You reflect my aspirations," he said, unsmiling.
"Oh, Jim! I? Do you imagine I believe that?"
"You might as well. It's true enough. You have just mirrored for me my hopeless aspiration toward that perfect and transparent honesty which I haven't attained, but which seems always to have been a part of you."