Green Fancy

"If God gives back my country to my people, Mr. Barnes," she said, after a long silence, "will you not one day make your way out there to us, so that we may present some fitting expression of the gratitude--"

"Don't speak of gratitude," he exclaimed. "I don't want to be thanked. Good Lord, do you suppose I--"

"There, there! Don't be angry," she cried. "But you must come to my country. You must see it. You will love it."

"But suppose that God does not see fit to restore it to you. Suppose that he leaves it in the hands of the vandals. What then? Will you go back to--that?"

She was still for a long time. "I shall not return to my country until it is free again, Mr. Barnes," she said, and there was a break in her voice.

"You--you will remain in MY country?" he asked, leaning closer to her ear.

"The world is large," she replied. "I shall have to live somewhere. It may be here, it may be France, or England or Switzerland."

"Why not here? You could go far and do worse."

"Beggars may not be choosers. The homeless cannot be very particular, you know. If the Germans remain in my country, I shall be without a home."

His voice was tense and vibrant when he spoke again, after a moment's reflection. "I know what O'Dowd would say if he were in my place."

"O'Dowd has known me a great many years," she said. "When you have known me as many months as he has years, you will thank your lucky star that you do not possess the affability that the gods have bestowed upon O'Dowd."

"Don't be too sure of that," he said, and heard the little catch in her breath. He found her hand and clasped it firmly. His lips were close to her ear. "I have known you long enough to--"

"Don't!" she cried out sharply. "Don't say it now,--please. I could listen to O'Dowd, but--but you are different. He would forget by to- morrow, and I would forget even sooner than he. But it would not be so easy to forget if you were to say it,--it would not be easy for either of us."

"You are not offended?" he whispered hoarsely.

"Why should I be offended? Are you not my protector?"

The subtle implication in those words brought him to his senses. Was he not her protector? And was he not abusing the confidence she placed in him?

"I shall try to remember that,--always," he said abjectly.

"Some day I shall tell you why I am glad you did not say it to me to- night," she said, a trifle unsteadily. She squeezed his hand. "You are very good to me. I shall not forget that either."