She followed my translation with a nod of the head, but did not raise her eyes.
"And this word ?" pointing out the name of my agent with so keen an interest that she touched my hand with her gloved fingers.

"This word 'Sander,' what is that ?" "That," I answered, "is the name of my agent, 'Sander,' the sender of the telegram." "Ah--yes, and he is in London?
Yes." "And is he reliable ?--excuse my pertinacity, Monsieur--you know, for a Frenchwoman--who has friends at the front--" she gave a little shiver.
"Mon Dieu! it is killing." She gave a momentary glance with wonderful eyes, which made me wish she would look up again.

I wondered whom she had at the front.
"Yes, he is reliable," I answered.

"You may take this news, Mademoiselle, as absolutely true." And then, seeing that she was traveling alone, I made so bold as to place my poor services at her disposal.

She answered very prettily, in a low voice, and declined with infinite tact.