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What place had His Beauty in Travalini's, in the shattered railway-carriage, in the dinner at the Grand in Havre with Julie? Julie. He dwelt on her, eyes, hair, face, skin, and lithe figure. He felt her kisses again on his lips, those last burning kisses of New Year's Night, and they were all to be his, as never before.... Julie. What, then, was she?
"I shall be padre in ..." began Alex, but Peter cut him short. "Oh, Lord," he said, "I'm tired of that! Come on out of it, and let's get a refresher somewhere. What's the club like here?" "Club's no good," said Pennell. "Let's go to Travalini's and introduce the padre. He's not been there yet." "I thought everyone knew it," said the other Australian rather contemptuously, Peter thought.
"The Friend": the little adjective struck him as never before. Had they ever had another? He frowned to himself at the thought, and could not help wondering vaguely what his Vicar or the Canon would have done in Travalini's. Then he wondered instantly what that Other would have done, and he found no answer at all.
"Nothing to yours," retorted Graham, still not at all sure of himself. "But, look here, what about Travalini's? I don't know that I care to go there." "Oh, it's all right, old dear. You haven't a vast collar on now, and you ought to see life. I've seen scores of chaplains there, even old Arnold. I'll look after your morals. Come on; let's get out and across the road.
"I'm game; but where are we going?" "I suggest Travalini's, padre," said Donovan. "Not for me;" said Miss Raynard; "it's too public and you seem to forget, Captain' Donovan, that we are forbidden to dine with officers." "Nobody is likely to give us away, Tommy," said Miss Gamelyn. "I'm not going to take the risk in uniform. Let's go to a quiet hotel, or else to some very French place.
"Here, I say," he said as he came up. "Let that man alone. What are you doing?" he added in halting French. One of the two girls gave a little scream, but the other straightened herself, and Peter perceived that he knew her. It was Louise, of Travalini's. "What are you doing?" he demanded again in English. "Is he hurt?" "Non, non, monsieur," said Louise.
They crossed the square in front of Travalini's, lingered at the flower-stalls, refused the girls' pressure to buy, and strolled on. "I'm sick of Travalini's," said Pennell. "Don't let's go in there." "So am I," said Peter. "Let's stroll down towards the sea." They turned down a side-street, and stood for a few minutes looking into a picture and book shop.
"Right," said Peter; "I'll collect Donovan." He found him after a bit, and the two made their adieus and thanks. As they went down the steps, Jack outlined the campaign. "I just joked to her about dinner," he said, "but I think they'll rise. If they do, we'll go to Travalini's, if they dare. That girl of yours is up to anything: she knows a thing or two. You've some nerve, old thing."
There was nothing in Travalini's to distinguish it from many other such places indeed, to distinguish it from the restaurant in which Peter, Donovan, and the girls had dined ten days or so before, except that it was bigger, more garish, more expensive, and, consequently, more British in patronage.
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