He would not have the time, he told her, to run down to Liverpool.

Could she get a couple of days' leave and dine with him in London.
She found him in the uniform of a French Colonel.

He had quite a military bearing and seemed pleased with himself.

He kissed her hand, and then held her out at arms' length.
"It's wonderful how like you are to your mother," he said, "I wish I were as young as I feel." She had written him at the beginning of the war, telling him of her wish to get out to the front, and he thought that now he might be able to help her.
"But perhaps you've changed your mind," he said.

"It isn't quite as pretty as it's painted." "I want to," she answered.