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Updated: May 12, 2025
"It seems," he said to Fallowby, "that a fellow cannot discuss the beauties of Greek sculpture in his mother tongue, without being openly suspected." Colette placed her hand over his mouth and turning to Sylvia, murmured, "They are horridly untruthful, these men." "I believe the word for ambulance is the same in both languages," said Marie Guernalec saucily; "Sylvia, don't trust Monsieur Trent."
May she rise from her ruins and crush the invader!" and the cheers rang out, drowning for a moment the monotonous thunder of the Prussian guns. Pipes and cigarettes were lighted, and Trent listened an instant to the animated chatter around him, broken by ripples of laughter from the girls or the mellow chuckle of Fallowby. Then he turned to West. "There is going to be a sortie to-night," he said.
I have written to Thorne, and the Guernalecs will come with their cousin Odile. Fallowby has engaged not to bring anybody but himself." The girl accepted shyly, charging him with loads of loving messages to Sylvia, and he said good-night. He started up the street, walking swiftly, for it was bitter cold, and cutting across the rue de la Lune he entered the rue de Seine.
"Chicken," repeated West, enjoying Fallowby's grief; "I that is, I must explain that things are changed. Colette and I are to be married " "What what about the chicken?" groaned Fallowby. "Shut up!" laughed Trent, and slipping his arm through West's, walked to the stairway.
Thorne and Guernalec, who had heard, broke in and offered assistance, and Fallowby volunteered with a groan. "All right," said Trent rapidly, "no more now, but meet me at Ambulance headquarters to-morrow morning at eight." Sylvia and Colette, who were becoming uneasy at the conversation in English, now demanded to know what they were talking about.
Then laughing, he presented Fallowby with a roll of twenty franc pieces saying: "If these go for luxuries you must live on your own flesh," and went over to aid West, who sat beside the wash-basin binding up his hand. West suffered him to tie the knot, and then said: "You remember, yesterday, when I left you and Braith to take the chicken to Colette." "Chicken! Good heavens!" moaned Fallowby.
"Jack," whispered Sylvia, "promise me " A knock at the studio door interrupted her. "Come in!" cried Fallowby, but Trent sprang up, and opening the door, looked out. Then with a hasty excuse to the rest, he stepped into the hall-way and closed the door. When he returned he was grumbling. "What is it, Jack?" cried West. "What is it?" repeated Trent savagely; "I'll tell you what it is.
She smiled and murmured, "Oh, no!" but her hand dropped into his and tightened convulsively. "To the table!" shouted Fallowby, and uttered a joyous whoop. "Take it easy," observed Thorne, with a remnant of manners; "you are not the host, you know." Marie Guernalec, who had been chattering with Colette, jumped up and took Thorne's arm and Monsieur Guernalec drew Odile's arm through his.
Trent, bowing gravely, offered his own arm to Colette, West took in Sylvia, and Fallowby hovered anxiously in the rear. "You march around the table three times singing the Marseillaise," explained Sylvia, "and Monsieur Fallowby pounds on the table and beats time." Fallowby suggested that they could sing after dinner, but his protest was drowned in the ringing chorus "Aux armes!
Trent, who suddenly appeared at the corner, glanced curiously at West, who merely nodded toward his door saying, "Come in; Fallowby's upstairs." "What are you doing with that knife?" demanded Fallowby, as he and Trent entered the studio.
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