for me, are you? There's a regulation against this sort of thing."
"We are welfare workers," Tish said calmly. "Behind us there stand the entire American people. If kept from the front trenches while trying to serve our boys there are ways of informing the people through the press."
"It's exactly the press I fear," he said in a sad voice. "Think of the results to you three, and to me."
"What results?" Tish demanded impatiently. "I'm not doing anything I'm ashamed of."
He was abstractedly moving the cribbage pins about.
"It's like this," he said: "Not very far behind the lines there are a lot of newspaper correspondents, and lately there hasn't been much news. But perhaps I'd better explain my own position. I am engaged to a lovely girl at home. I write to her every day, but I have been conscious recently that in her replies to me there has been an element of—shall I say suspicion? No, that is not the word. Anxiety—of anxiety, lest I shall fall in love with some charming Red Cross or Y. M. C. A. girl. Nothing could be further from my thoughts, but you can see my situation. Three feminine visitors at nightfall; news-hungry cor-
