“Mon ami, you are making me the man.”
He drew her face to him again, and kissed her slowly and with great tenderness.
“All right,” he said; “but I’ll not marry you till this place is all that I want to make it.”
She laid her hands on his shoulders.
“What queer things you men are, some of you. If it was not for that, I would——”
“Tell me,” he said, his hands on her wrists.
She gave a quick, defensive smile.
“No, show me what is in that bundle. It’s so exciting, this new home.”
XXX
It seemed to Paul Brent that peace and the spring came suddenly to Beaucourt, and that even in this war-scarred country there was a beauty that had a mystery and a strangeness of its own.