We must talk a lot. You know—you know—" then she turned aside in confusion; but with an effort she said: "You—you are supposed to be my fiancé, and you've just come back from France, and—and Oh! what are you thinking of me? Please—please" she broke off.
Very gravely and with smiling eyes he replied, "I quite understand. Please don't worry. Something has happened, and if I can do anything to help, you have only to tell me. My name is Bowen, and I'm just back from France."
"Are you a major?" enquired Patricia, to whom stars and crowns meant nothing.
"I'm afraid I'm a lieutenant-colonel," he replied, "on the Staff."
"Oh! what a pity," said Patricia, "I said you were a major."
"Couldn't you say I've been promoted?"
Patricia clapped her hands. "Oh! how splendid! Of course! You see I said that you were Major Brown, I can easily tell them that they misunderstood and that it was Major Bowen. They are such awful cats, and if they found out I should have to leave. You see that's some of them at the next table there. That's Miss Wangle with the lorgnettes and the other woman is Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe, who is her echo, and the man is Mr. Bolton. He's nothing in particular."
"I see," said Bowen.
"And—and—of course you've got to pretend to be most awfully glad to see me. You see we
