Kissing Kin Read Online Free Page B

everyone was kindness itself and pretended tactfully that she was used to it too.
    The arrival of Pershing in France in May coincided with—and assisted—a wave of optimism born of the British campaign around Arras. The first American troops were soon in France—it was only a token force straight from the Mexican Border, lean, springy, eager men who inspired the remark that it might have taken a long time to get America into the war but it would take a lot longer to get her out of it. Bracken came back from France for a few days’ rest and said things looked a little better—there had been some trouble in the French Army, but now that Pétain was boss he would have things straightened out in no time. Bracken was more worried about Russia, now many weeks gone in revolution. Russia’s leaders still insisted that a separate peace was unthinkable, but Bracken said he didn’t like the look of Russia. But then, Virginia reminded him, he never had.
    The third anniversary of the shooting at Sarajevo passed, and Calvert arrived on Salisbury Plain with a new lot of Canadians. Camilla wanted to rush off to see him, and began looking up trains to Amesbury, but was persuaded to wait till he could get leave and come to London, which, late in August, he finallycontrived to do. He was made much of in St. James’s Square, and Virginia gave a theatre party to see Daddy Long Legs at the Duke of York’s, and they all wept just enough to enjoy themselves , and had supper afterwards at Scott’s, and tried to forget that now the Russian front had quite collapsed and America would never be in time to compensate for the loss of the Ally on the East. Soon the fresh German divisions which had been pinned down by the possibility that Russia might go on fighting after all would be streaming westward to be used against the weary, battle-worn men in the Allied trenches. And that would mean an endless demand for Allied replacements. And that meant Calvert and his new toy, the machine-gun.
    The Canadians in Flanders were already famous for their snipers and their runners. Now they had taken the machine-gun to their devoted bosoms and did such deeds with it that conscientious correspondents like Bracken Murray hesitated to report them for fear of being charged with exaggeration. Camilla had to listen while Calvert talked of his gun like a man in love—had to look at diagrams and keep track of figures—almost expected to be swept off to Salisbury Plain to meet the beloved in person. The machine-gun was “she” to all its besotted crew. Like any exacting mistress, she was full of crotchets, and unless tenderly treated would jam at a critical moment, or just plain quit on you and there you were. But you knew all her whimsical ways and her complicated innards and her dirty little soul, and if you were on your way to France with a Canadian machine-gun battalion in the summer of 1917 your gun came just next after your God, and your girl, if you had one, was a poor third. Sisters—well, twin sisters always knew how you felt.
    He confessed to them the last night that this was his embarkation leave and he was off to France within a few days. Camilla, hard pressed by her own exhausting duties when he had gone, had less time to worry about him than she had anticipated, and the brigade he was sent to was then in a rest area behind Lens. His letters were great fun, and she read themaloud to Virginia. He had enough French to make friends with the civilian population, and the French Canadians in his battalion often turned things into quite a circus, particularly with the children they encountered. Gradually from his anecdotes and the second-hand tales of past heroism which had become legend in the ranks, one name began to stand out—his lance-corporal, whose name was Raymond, though they were rather at a loss in London as to whether or not that was his surname. Raymond was an American too, who had joined up in Canada soon after the
Lusitania,
and had reached