“My dear Lucinda,” she said. “It’s all for the best that it ended like this. I don’t think you would have been happy with him. He is very attractive and has all the social graces…but there is something superficial about him…something too worldly. You would have been disappointed. You’re not like that at all. You’re honest and sincere. He was brought up in a different atmosphere from the one you were. There would have been irritations in time.”

“Whereas I’ve known Robert all my life.”

“That’s no drawback.”

“There are no surprises,” I said. “It’s all so predictable.”

“Marcus came to you in a dramatic way. It was all rather romantic…not so much while you were living it perhaps, but when you look back. That’s what so often happens in life. The things we anticipate with such excitement and look back on and find so amusing are often quite uncomfortable while we are actually living them. As I say, he appeared on the scene; he took charge of everything; he took you out of danger. Of course he seems romantic. At one time I thought you and he…I tried to reconcile myself, but I didn’t really like it because I felt it wouldn’t work. He’s charming, but he’s suave. I know people like him. He goes out of his way to please, but somehow I don’t think his feelings go deep…if you know what I mean. He seemed to be very interested in you until Annabelinda appeared again. I know she made a dead set at him, but she couldn’t have forced him to ask her to marry him, could she? He had to want to…and he asked her so soon. Sometimes, my dearest Lucinda, something happens in life which hurts…but when it’s past you can look back on it and see that it is all for the best.”

I nodded and she came to me and kissed me.

“The war must soon be over,” she said. “Then everything will work out well for us all, I know. We shall all be looking at things differently…more normally, more naturally.”

I hoped she was right.

I thought a great deal about what she had said. Robert would go away soon. Perhaps I should never see him again. Perhaps my mother and Sybil were right. Perhaps I should marry him. It was what he wanted. Sometimes I thought I wanted it, too.

Why did I hesitate? Because I was not like Marcus and could not turn to another so easily. He was so different from Robert—what they called a man of the world. He had a secret family and had been almost nonchalant about it, as though it were natural for a man in his position. Perhaps it was.

I did still think of him with pangs of longing, and I often wondered how he and Annabelinda were getting on together.

I found during that period that I wanted to be alone, to think about what was happening. Perhaps in wartime, with death and separation constantly at hand, one saw things less clearly than one did in the calmness of peace. Then life went on more or less predictably. During war, one never knew when one was going to hear bad news; one never knew what catastrophe was going to strike.

I liked to sit on an overturned tree trunk which had been lying in one part of the forest for as long as I could remember. It was quiet and peaceful there; the trees growing thickly around it made it a secluded spot.

I was constantly asking myself why I hesitated about accepting Robert’s proposal.

Accept him, said common sense. You should marry one day. You want children. Look how you feel about Edward. As my mother said, I had seen Marcus in a romantic light…escaping from danger with him when he was like some hero from an old legend. But he had not turned out to be what I had believed. He had made me care for him and then had quickly turned from me to Annabelinda. And then I had made that discovery about his secret life. I wondered how many secrets there were in his life. With Robert one would always know. Everything he did would be open and honest.

And as I sat there brooding, I became aware of the sound of horses’ hooves. Someone was riding nearby. I heard voices. Andrée and Edward. I would surprise them. I made my way through the trees. There was a small clearing just beyond, and it was from this direction that the voices came.

I emerged from the trees and there they were. Edward was on his pony; Andrée was holding the leading rein, and with them was a man.

Immediately I remembered my conversation with Edward when he had told me that they met a man in the forest.

“Hello,” I called out.

There was silence, broken by Edward who shouted, “Lucinda!”

I advanced. And then I clearly saw the man to whom Andrée was talking. For a few moments we stared at each other.

“Oh, hello,” Andrée said.

The man took off his hat and bowed.

“Good-bye,” he said. And to Andrée, “Thanks.” Then he disappeared through the trees.

I thought I was dreaming. When he had taken off his hat, I was sure. I recognized that thick yellow hair. It was Carl Zimmerman.

I felt stunned. Then I wondered if I had been mistaken. True, it was only the third time I had seen him and always in strange circumstances: long ago outside the cubbyhole; in the gardens of La Pinière; and now, here in the forest, talking to Andrée. What could it mean?

“Who was that?” I said.

“He was asking the way,” she said.

“I…I thought it was someone I knew.”

“Really?”

“You found us, Lucinda,” Edward said.

“Yes, I found you.”

“Like hide-and-seek. Can we play hide-and-seek when we get home?”

“I daresay we might,” promised Andrée.

I wanted to ask questions about the man whom I believed to be Carl Zimmerman, but I did not feel I could do so in front of Edward. One can never be sure how much children understand. They often appear to be not listening when they are taking in everything. I kept thinking that if it had been Carl Zimmerman, he would be seeing his son for the first time. He would not know, of course, but what might have been an ordinary encounter in the forest had taken on a dramatic turn.

Secrets, I thought. Everywhere there were secrets.

I took the first opportunity of talking to Andrée.

“That man you were with…” I said.

She wrinkled her brows and looked puzzled.

“The man you were talking to when I came upon you in the forest.”

“Oh, you mean the one who was asking the way?”

“Yes. I just wondered if you’d seen him before?”

“No. Why should you think that?”

“Oh, it was something Edward said about your meeting a man in the forest.”

“Edward?”

“Yes, he said he’d seen a man.”

She flushed slightly. “Oh, he must have meant Tom Gilroy.”

“Isn’t he one of the male nurses?”

“Yes. The big strong one.”

“Oh, I know.”

“Well, we have been rather friendly, and we have met once or twice in the forest.”

“Oh, I see.” I smiled. It was natural that a girl like Andrée should have an admirer. But I was still shocked by the encounter with Carl Zimmerman. Then I began to think I might have been mistaken.

I had soon convinced myself that the stranger who had asked Andrée the way had merely looked like him. After all, the meeting had been over in a few minutes.

Nineteen-seventeen was coming to an end. It had been a momentous year. There had been a revolution in Russia, and the armistice between that country and Germany had released more German forces to be used on the Western Front. Nearer home, just before Christmas, Robert had been called before the medical board in London and pronounced fit for military service. The news depressed us considerably, though Robert took it philosophically.

“Couldn’t hang on much longer,” he said with a grimace.

“Oh, Robert,” I cried and clung to him.

I almost said that we should become engaged. If he had pressed me then, I should have said I would marry him. I kept telling myself that I loved him. He was far more perceptive than he pretended to be, and I believe he did not want to force me to a decision until I was absolutely sure.