he called.

Her voice didn't suggest fright or too sharp a hurry. Looking at her
face he could understand how much her control had cost, for her
expression was that of the girl Sylvia, filled with antipathy,
abhorrence, an inability to believe. It appeared to tell him that if he
had ever advanced toward her at all, he had just now forced himself back
to his own side of the vast space dividing them.

"Don't be a fool," he whispered. "I could take it, but you have to
give."

Her lips were pressed tight as if in a defence against the possible
approach of his. They both heard a quick step outside. He let her arms
go, and turned to the door where Dalrymple stood, unquestionably good to
look upon in his uniform. He frowned at this picture which might have
suggested to him a real intimacy between George Morton and Sylvia
Planter.

"Lambert's gone on with Betty and the others. What's up?"

Sylvia's voice wasn't quite steady.

"The Major can't leave the area. I want somebody to take me to Officers'
House."

George nodded. He had quite recovered his control, and he knew he had
failed, that there was nothing more to be done. The thought of the
doubtful days ahead was like a great burden on his soul.

"I've one more word for the Major," she said at the door, motioning
Dalrymple on.

George went close to her.

"It's only this," she said. "I'm sorry it had to come at the last
minute."

He laughed shortly.

"It was the last minute that made it. I'm not sorry."

Her face twisted passionately, as if she were on the point of angry
tears.

"I hope I shall never see you again. Do you understand that?"

"Quite," he said, dryly. "To George on going to the wars!"

"I didn't mean just that," she cried, angrily.

"It's your only chance," he said, "and I can understand how you can wish
I shouldn't come back."

"I didn't mean it," she repeated.

"Don't count too heavily on it," he went on. "I can't imagine dying
before having had what I have always wanted, have always sooner or later
intended to get. If I come back I shall have it."

Without another word she turned and left him. He watched her walk side
by side with Dalrymple out of the area.

IX

There were moments on the voyage, in the training area in Flanders, even
at the front, when he was sorry he had tried to take something of Sylvia
with him to battle; for, as it was, he had of her nothing whatever
except a wish that she should never see him again. There w