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"
"You are Canadians?" cried the girl, a new interest dawning in her eyes.
As she came into the light, Barry noticed that they were brown, and that
they were very lustrous.
"I love the Canadians," she exclaimed. "My brother was a liaison
artillery officer at Ypres; with them, at the time of the gas, you know.
He liked them immensely." Her voice was soft and sad.
Unconsciously Barry let his eyes fall to the black band on her arm.
"He was with the Canadians, too, when he was killed at Armentieres,
three months ago."
"Killed!" exclaimed Barry. "Oh, I am so sorry for you."
"I had two brothers," she went on, in her gentle even tone. "One was
killed at Landrecies, on the retreat from Mons, you know."
"No," said Barry, "I'm afraid I don't know about it. Tell me!"
"It was a great fight," said the girl. "Oh, a splendid fight!" A ring
came into her voice and a little colour into her cheek. "They tried to
rush our men, but they couldn't. My oldest brother was there in charge
of a machine gun section.


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