Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1930-06-03

they had bought just before the war.
Angeles mother was timid little
woman, who might have been expected
to flee westward when the first shell
had landed in the village: even the
destruction of the kitchen by As had
not driven her away from the knitting
machine, for the purchase of which
she had scraped and saved so long. So
she knitted away feverishly, and worried
little about Angelo and her failure to
keep the place clean. Besides, the big
room was used as the company officers
mess, and she could always blame the
batmen If there were complaints.
A few fly-blown advertisements of
byrrh, vermouth and beer hung round
the walls. One of them had been
turned face to the wall, and the back
of the cheap frame was used for COM
pany orders. Hilbert, supported half
heartedly by Trotter, had stuck draw
ings from La Vie Parisienne over others.
On the table in the corner was an
untidy pile of kit-trench coats, puttees,
mufflers and cardigan jackets. The stove
in the middle of the room was red hot
on top, and a couple of pairs of boots
steamed in front of it, There was, as
the medical officer put it, "a hell of a
fug." and he made it worse by putting
away steadily at a peculiarly foul pipe
excitement, for his luck was in, and
he had quite a pile of matches, each
representing a franc. in front of him.
Later, when the matches were convert
ed into money, he would feel slightly
guilty. for. much as he liked winning
money, he was reluctant to take it from
his friends. Besides, as the only officer
in the company who had risen from the
ranks, he had a slight sense of in
soIn 10
him to beat men who instinctively put
their aitches in their right places. But
for the moment he felt only triumph,
and he drank his champagne with the
boastful and greedy gesture of a
profiteer.
Done you again. 'Ibbert," he said,
as he swept another little pile of
matches across the table toward him.
HILBERT was bad loser. There were
two hectic patches of red on his usually
pale cheeks, and he nervously twisted
his small yellow mustache.
Never saw such bloody luck" he
growled, as though he believed that in
some way Trotter was not playing
fairly. I've had enough of this"
For we'll over an hour the excitement
of gambling had made him forget that
they were going into the line again.
Now even gambling had let him down,
and he pushed back his chair angrily.
He paid up his debts grudgingly, and
went into the next room.
AS luck would have 1t. Angelo was
alone at the knitting machine. She did
not hear him come in, so he tiptoed up
to her and stood behind her. The pale
March sun shone on her neck, and the
imminence of his departure for the
trenches gave him q desperate courage
Hitherto he had dared do no more than
brush his hand, as it were accidentally,
against hers when he passed her In the
passage. Now he bent down, slipped
his arm round her waist, and kissed
her just behind her ear.
Angelo wrenched herself out of his
grasp and was on her feet in a second.
"Espece d'insolent" she painted. How
dare you?"
Then she softened a little, for there
was something rather appealingly weak
about Hilbert.
You had no right to do that, and
If you try again, I shall tell the
captain"
But, mademoiselle, we shall be of
in half an hour to the trenches. You
might be nice to me Bit"
The appeal, dictated by his own fears