hat you wanted?"

"Oh yes, I've _said_ it, and I've done it. That's nothing. Any fool can
do that. The great thing is to make yourself get what you don't want. I
didn't _want_ to do this. I had to."

"No. You wanted to enlist. But I'm not sure that from your point of view
this isn't better."

"Jolly lot you know," he said, "about my point of view."

"Your idea," I explained, "of doing things on your own. Isn't that what
you wanted?"

He answered very slowly: "I don't think--it matters--what I wanted--or
what I didn't want. It's enough--isn't it?--if I want to _now_--if I want
it more than anything else?"

I said, No, I didn't think it did matter.

But I hadn't a notion what he meant. I didn't know that he was on the
edge of a confession. I couldn't see that he was trying to tell me
something about himself, and that I had started him off by telling him he
was splendid. It was as if--then--he too had felt that Viola was there
and listening to us, as if he were speaking to her and not to me.

For the next thing he said was, "I want you to tell Viola about it. Tell
her it's all right. Tell her I'm all right. See?"

"But shan't you," I said, "be seeing her? Isn't she going to see you off
or something?"

He said, "No. Much better not. She wouldn't be content with seeing me
off. She'd try to come out with me. She'd worry me to take her. And
I'm not going to take her. She isn't to know I'm going till I've gone.
And she isn't to know where I've gone to. I won't have her coming out
to me. _You've_ got to see to that, Furny. You've got to stop her if
she tries to get out. They're _all_ trying. You should just see the
bitches--tumbling, and wriggling and scrabbling with their claws and
crawling on their stomachs to get to the front--tearing each other's eyes
out to get there first. And there are fellows that'll take them. They'll
even take their wives.

"Not me. Not much. I wouldn't let Viola cross in the same boat with that
lot.

"It ought to be put a stop to.

"The place I'm going to--the things I'm going to see--and to do--aren't
fit for women--aren't fit for women to come within ten miles of. Whatever
you do, Furny--and I don't care what you do--you're not to let her get
out."

I suppose--I suppose I made him some sort of promise. He says I did. I
don't remember.

I _do_ remember telling him I thought it was a pity--if he meant to go
out--that he hadn't seen Viola all this time.

And I remember his answer.