He played with that awhile, blowing out thoughtful rings of smoke. It struck him that she had, but he was fully aware that that did not disgust him in the least. It almost fascinated him, just as--that _was_ it--Hilda's disgust would repel him. Why? He hadn't an idea.
"Monsieur le Capitaine is very dull," said a girl's voice at his elbow. He started: Louise had moved to the sofa and was smiling at him. He glanced towards his companions, Alex was standing, finishing a last drink; Pennell staring at Louise.
He looked back at the girl, straight into her eyes, and could not read them in the least. The darkened eyebrows and the glitter in them baffled him. But he must speak, "Am I?" he said. "Forgive me, mademoiselle; I was thinking."
"Of your fiancée--is it not so? Ah! The Capitaine has his fiancée, then? In England? Ah, well, the girls in England do not suffer like we girls in France.... They are proud, too, the English misses. I know, for I have been there, to--how do you call it?--Folkestone. They walk with the head in the air," and she tilted up her chin so comically that Peter smiled involuntarily.
"No, I do not like them," went on the girl deliberately. "They are only half alive, I think. I almost wish the Boche had been in your land.... They are cold, la! And not so very nice to kiss, eh?"
"They're not all like that," said Pennell.
"Ah, non? But you like the girls of France the best, mon ami; is it not so?" She leaned across towards him significantly.
Pennell laughed. "_Now_, yes, perhaps," he said deliberately; "but after the war ..." and he shrugged his shoulders, like a Frenchman.
A shade passed over the girl's face, and she got up. "It is so," she said lightly. "Monsieur speaks very true--oh, very true! The girls of France now--they are gay, they are alive, they smile, and it is war, and you men want these things. But after--oh, I know you English--you'll go home and be--how do you say?--'respectable,' and marry an English miss, and have--oh! many, many bébés, and wear the top-hat, and go to church. There is no country like England...." She made a little gesture. "What do you believe, you English? In le bon Dieu? Non. In love? Ah, non! In what, then? Je ne sais!" She laughed again. "What 'ave I said? Forgive me, monsieur, and you also, Monsieur le Capitaine. But I do see a friend of mine. See, I go! Bon soir."