Page:Ruth of the U.S.A. (IA ruthofusa00balm).pdf/61

 but to which she might not reply. But now, as it called to her: "Aux armes! . . Marchons! Marchons! . . " she was to march with it!

The wonder of that made her a little dizzy and set her pulse fluttering in her throat. The song was finished and she was amid the long fronds of palms, the hanging vines, and the red of winter roses in the conservatory. She looked about and discovered Hubert Lennon guiding Gerry Hull to her.

"Cynthia, this is Gerry Hull; Gerry, this is Cynthia Gail."

He was in his uniform which he had worn in the French service; he had applied to be transferred from his old escadrille to an American squadron, Ruth knew; but the transfer was not yet effected. The ribbons of his decorations—the Croix de Guerre, the Medaille Militaire, the Cross of the Legion of Honor—ran in a little, brilliant row across the left breast of his jacket. It bothered him as her eyes went to them. He would not have sought the display—she thought—of wearing his decorations here at home; but since he was appearing in formal—almost an official function—he had no choice about it. And she recognized instantly that he had not followed his friend out of the "jam" of the other rooms to meet her in order to hear more praise of himself from her.

He was, indeed, far more interested in her than in himself. "Why, I've met you before, Miss Gail," he said, and evidently was puzzling to place her.

Ruth went warm with pleasure. "I spoke to you on the street—when your car stopped on Michigan Avenue