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Once a British aviator brought his machine down in the field by the mill,

and walked over with the stiff stride of a ave hi fighting that was to coht about Henri Generally her thoughts were

tender; always they were grateful But she was greatly puzzled He had

said that he loved her Then, if he loved her, why should he not be

gentle and kind to her? Men did not hurt the women they loved And

because she was hurt, she was rather less than just He had not asked

her to marry him He had said that he loved her, but that was different

And the insidious poison of Harvey's letter about foreigners began to

have its effect

The truth was that she was tired The strain was telling on her And

at a time when she needed every moral support Henri had drawn off behind

a wall of misery, and all her efforts at a renewal of their old

friendship only brought up against a sort of stony despair

There were tihtened She was so

alone What if Henri went away altogether? What if he took away the

little car, and his protection, and the supplies that caularly?