CHAPTER XXIV 

Captain Richard Beverley, on his way through the hotel smoking room to the Savoy bar, stopped short. He looked at the girl who had half risen from her seat on the couch with a sudden impulse of half startled recognition. Her little smile of welcome was entirely convincing. 

"Why, it's Nora Sharey!" he exclaimed. "Nora!" 

"Well, I am glad you've recognised me at last," she said, laughing. "I tried to make you see me last night in the restaurant, but you wouldn't look." 

He seemed a little dazed, even after he had saluted mechanically, held her hand for a moment and sank into the place by her side. 

"Nora Sharey!" he repeated. "Why, it was really you, then, dining last night with that fellow Crawshay?" 

"Of course it was," she replied, "and I recognised you at once, even in your uniform." 

"You know that Jocelyn Thew is here? You saw him with us last night?" 

"Yes, I know." 

"Stop a moment," Richard Beverley went on. "Let me think, Nora. Jocelyn Thew must have seen you dining with Crawshay. How does that work out?" 

"He doesn't mind," she replied. "Let that stuff alone for a time. I want to look at you. You're fine, Dick, but what does it all mean?" 

"I couldn't stick the ranch after the war broke out," he confessed. "I moved up into Canada and took on flying." 

"You are fighting out there in France?" 

"Have been for six months. Some sport, I can tell you, Nora. I've got a little machine gun that's a perfect daisy. Gee! I've got to pull up. The hardest work we fellows have sometimes is to remember that we mustn't talk about our job. They used to call me undisciplined. I'm getting it into my bones now, though.--Why, Nora, this is queer! I guess we're going to have a cocktail together, aren't we?" 
Does he seem depressed by it?
 I'm getting it into my bones now, though.