Swiftly he turned, and saw in the dim light a dainty figure, opera coat flowing away from gleaming arms and shoulders, a face with its halo of gold brown hair, with soft brown eyes ashine and eager parted lips, a vision of fluttering, bewildering loveliness bearing down upon him with outstretched hands.

"What," he gasped, "you! Oh, you darling!"

He reached for her, gathered her in his arms, drew her toward him, and before either he or she was aware of what he intended to do, kissed her parting lips.

"Oh, how dare you!" she cried, aghast, pushing him back from her, her face in a red flame. "Oh, I'm so glad. I was afraid I should lose you."

Barry, appalled at his own temerity, his eyes taking in the sweet beauty of her lovely face, stood silent, trembling.

"Well, aren't you going to tell me you are glad to see me?" she cried, smiling up at him saucily.

"Phyllis," he murmured, moving toward her.

"Stop," she said, putting her hands out before her, as if to hold him off. "Remember where you are. I ought to be very angry, indeed."

She drew him toward a dark wall.

"But you aren't angry, Phyllis. If you only knew how I have wanted you in this awful place. Oh, I have wanted you."

She saw that he was white and still trembling.

"Have you, Barry?" she asked, gently. "Oh, you poor boy. I know you have been through horrible things. No, Barry, don't. You awful man," for his hands were moving toward her again. "You must remember where you are.

Look at all these people staring at us."

"People," he said, as if in a daze. "What difference do they make? Oh, Phyllis, you are so wonderfully lovely. I can't believe it's you, but it is, it is! I know your eyes. Are you glad to see me?" he asked shyly, his hungry eyes upon her face.

"Oh, Barry," she whispered, the warm flush rising again in her cheeks, "can't you see? Can't you see? But what am I thinking about? Come and see mamma, and there's another dear friend and admirer of yours with her."

"Who? Not Paula?"

"No, not Paula," she said, with a subtle change in her voice. "Come and see!"

She took his arm and brought him back to a motor standing at the theatre entrance.

"Oh, mamma, I have had such a race," she cried excitedly, "and I have captured him. Barry, my mother."

Barry took the offered hand, and gazed earnestly into the sad brown eyes that searched his in return.

"And here's your friend," said Phyllis.

"Hello, Pilot," said a voice from a dark corner of the car.

"What, Neil! Oh, you boy," he cried in an ecstasy, pushing both hands at him. "You dear old boy. How is the arm, eh? all right?"

"Oh! doing awfully well," said Captain Neil. "And you?"

"Oh, never so well in all my life," cried Barry. "Yet, to think of it, ten minutes ago, or when was it, I was in there a miserably homesick creature, envious of all the happy people about me, and now--"

While he was speaking, his eyes were on Mrs. Vincent's face, but his hand was holding fast to her daughter's arm. "Now it's a lovely old town, and full of dear people."

"Where are you putting up?" asked Mrs. Vincent.

"The Cecil."

"Let us drive you there then," she said.

During the drive Barry sat silent for the most part, listening to Phyllis talking excitedly and eagerly beside him, answering at random the questions which came like rapid fire from them all, but planning meanwhile how he should prolong these moments of bliss.

"How about supper?" he cried, as they arrived in the courtyard of the hotel. "Come in. I want you to; you see I have so much to ask and so much to tell Captain Fraser here, and three of my days are gone already.

Besides, I want you to awfully."

Mrs. Vincent looked at his face, which for all its brightness was worn and deep-lined, and her compassionate motherly heart was stirred.

"Of course we'll come. We want to see you and to hear about your experiences."

"Oh, bully!" cried Barry. "I shall always remember how good you are to me to-night."

He was overflowing with excitement.

"Oh, this is great, Neil. It's like having a bit of the old battalion here to see you again."

While waiting for their orders to be filled at the supper table, Captain Neil turned suddenly to Barry and said, "What's all this about a train wreck and the gallant O. C. train?"

"Yes, and this rescuing of men from burning cars," exclaimed Phyllis.

"And knocking out insubordinates."

"And being mentioned in despatches."

"And receiving cheers at the station."

"Now where did you get all that stuff?" inquired Barry.

"Why, all London is ringing with it," said Captain Neil.

"Nonsense," said Barry; "who's been stuffing you?"

"Well," said Phyllis, "we came across your sergeant to-day in the hospital. Such a funny man."

"Who? Fatty Matthews?" asked Barry, turning to Captain Neil.

"Yes, it was Fatty," said Captain Neil, "and if you had your rights by his account, you ought to be in command at this moment of an army corps at the very least. But you were O. C. leave train, were you not?"

"Yes, to my dismay I was made O. C., but I met a chap, Captain Courtney, a very decent fellow, my adjutant, and made him carry on."

"My word, that was a stroke!"

"We had a wreck, a ghastly affair it was, though it might have been a lot worse. The R. A. M. C. people did magnificently, and the men behaved awfully well, so that we managed to get through."