The Marquis could not come, much to the regret of all the company, for his regiment expected to be called to the front any day and no leaves could be granted.
Judy put up a brave front when adieux were in order, but her heart was very sad. How many terrible things might happen to these kind friends she was leaving! The Tricots, good souls, might be bereft at any moment. Dear Cousin Sally, with two in the war, might be doubly visited by the hand of death. Polly and Jo Perkins were to part after this brief time of happiness, holding hands under the Tricots' hospitable board, one to return to his office of caring for the wounded, the other to her office of keeping the German ambulance drivers busy. The young Kentucky giant, Jim Castleman, was to join his regiment on the following day. His glee at having a chance to swat the Prussians was intense. He didn't look like a person who could ever die, but one bit of shrapnel might in the twinkling of an eye destroy that virile youth.
"Come to see me when you can, my American Lafayette," begged the Marquise, "and if you get so much as a tiny little wound, let me nurse you if you can get to me."
Jim had delighted the little party by translating into his execrable French football terms to describe his idea of how the war should be conducted. His left tackle was frankly: "_gauche palan_," and his centre rush was: "_cintre jonc_."
He and Kent were not very demonstrative in their parting, but both of them felt it deeply.
"Wuv e lul lul! Sus o lul o nun gug!" called Jim, as the cab bearing the bride and groom started.
"Gug o o dud lul u sank kuk!" was Kent's feeling rejoinder.
No submarine warfare interrupted the peaceful passage of our honeymooners. The voyage was delightful to both of them after all the trials they had been through. Judy was as much at home on the water as on land, literally a born sailor, as she had been born at sea. Kent loved a ship and all the many aspects of the ocean. The lazy days on deck, with their chairs drawn as close together as chairs could be, their hands clasped under the steamer rug, seemed like a beautiful dream, only a dream that was going to last for a lifetime, not the lazy days on deck but the being together and never talking out. Being lazy was not the idea of eternal bliss common to either of these young persons. Kent felt there were worlds to conquer in the architectural universe and he meant to do his share towards conquering them; and with Judy by his side, he gloried in the task before him. As for Judy, she meant to paint like mad and to work up many ideas she had teeming in her head. She was thankful for the reels of undeveloped snapshots she had in her trunk, as she was going to use them as a jog to her memory for the numerous illustrations she meant to make in an article she was thinking of writing on Paris at the outbreak of the war.