'Ah, but no!' she exclaimed, shrinking a little back.
'I am half French and half English,' she told him.
'The French are good people,' he went on, relapsing into his former far-away tone, 'very fine people. They can fight too, and they can tell Germans when they see them. That is why I am going home--because I couldn't. I've sworn that the next German I see, I'll kill. You're not a German, are you?'
'I told you just now,' she reminded him quietly, 'that I am half French and half English--mostly French. I am in the service of the French Government at the present moment, trying to help you, General.'
'Good girl,' he said absently. 'I thought there might have been a German in here when I heard some one moving. If I can't find one, I suppose I must shoot myself.'
He took out a little revolver and examined it. He opened the breech and she saw that it was fully loaded.
He handed it to her at once. The window by which they sat was half down. She calmly threw it out. He looked at her in a mildly-vexed manner.
'You should not have done that, young lady,' he expostulated. 'I was very fond of that revolver. Besides, how am I to kill myself now?'
'I should wait,' she advised him. 'When you get to London you will easily find Germans--too many of them.'
'But I've nothing to kill them with, and I've left my army behind. I am sent home,' he added, with a sudden hoarse pathos.
Her sense of personal fear had passed. She knew that the dangerous moment, if indeed there had been one, lay behind.
'There is so much work to be done in England,' she said.
He seemed to be looking through the carriage windows; his hands were twitching horribly.
'Those nights,' he muttered, 'when we thought that an hour's rest had come, and the red fires came spitting from our flanks just when we thought ourselves safe, when we thought them far and away behind----'
His words became unintelligible. He sat quite quiet. Presently, to her joy, she saw a carpet of lights on either side and knew that they were running into London.
'You had better get back to your saloon,' she said. 'We shall be at Charing Cross in a few minutes, and there will probably be some one to meet you.'
He rose obediently to his feet. The tears were in her eyes as he turned away with a stiff little salute, and, stooping low, disappeared through the doorway. Then she leaned back with a long-drawn sigh of relief. It was a strange little episode, another of the little adventures which gave colour to her life. She leaned out of the window and saw the last of him as they drew up. He was met by an officer and an elderly lady. She saw him pass out and take his place in a waiting motor-car. Then she stepped out herself, handed her bag to a porter and was conducted to a taxicab.