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 to nod to him, but never once did he glance my way, but turned slightly sideways towards the girl, so that I only saw his profile. Her face was in the same way turned a little to him, and I could see every shade of expression which revealed her moods as she talked, and the varying light in her eyes. She was certainly a pretty thing, exquisite, even, in delicacy of colour and fineness of feature, with that "spun-gold" hair of hers; though I thought (remembering Dr. Small's words) that she had a worn and fragile look which robbed her of the final touch of beauty. For some time they exchanged only a few words now and then, which I could not hear, and I was reading a book when I heard Brand say in his clear, rather harsh voice:

"Will your people be anxious about you?"

The girl answered in a low voice. I glanced up and saw that she was smiling, not at Brand, but at the countryside which seemed to travel past us as the tram went on its way. It was the smile of a girl to whom life meant something good just then.

Brand spoke again.

"I should hate to let your mother think that I have been disloyal to her confidence. Don't let this friendship of ours be spoilt by secrecy. I am not afraid of it!"

He laughed in a way that was strange to me. There was a note of joy in it. It was a boy's laugh, and Brand had gone beyond boyhood in the war. I saw one or two of the Germans look up at him curiously, and then stare at the girl, not in a friendly way. She was unconscious of their gaze, though a wave of colour swept her face. For a second she laid her hand on Brand's brown fist, and it was a quick caress.

"Our friendship is good!" she said.

She spoke these words very softly, in almost a whisper, but I heard them in spite of the rattle of the tramcar and