room they gave me had six doors and none of
them possessed a key. It may sound silly, but it
was late, and I was afraid, afraid of everything.
I wasn't sure he would come back at all, and if
he didn't I knew I might never see him again.
Strange sounds drifted from the dark street. I
heard soldiers marching; queer songs in French
and English; far off, a bugle. I was lonely, and
homesick, and unhappy. I knew he wouldn't
come back, and all those doors frightened me. I
tried to barricade them, but I couldn't find enough
chairs. Then he ran in, and he laughed at my
barricade which he had had to tumble over. He
had to go that night, and I walked through the
dark streets with him, although he said I'd better
not, because it would only make it harder for both of us.
But I went, and at the military station
there were soldiers everywhere, and confusion,
and a train—that waited. I didn't dare look at
it, but I knew when it started, for he said goodbye—
"I looked then and saw him climb into a carriage filled with soldiers. He waved his hand, shouting to an officer he knew to sec that I got back to the hotel and later to Paris where my mother would be waiting."
Her mother, good-humoured and middle-aged, laughed resentfully.
