III
"I've wormed it out of Betty," he said to Lambert on the way back to barracks.
He added congratulations, heartfelt, accompanied by a firm clasp of the hand; but Lambert seemed scarcely to hear, couldn't wait for George to finish before breaking in.
"You and Betty have always been like brother and sister. She says so. I've seen it myself."
George was a trifle uncomfortable.
"What of it?"
"If you get a chance point out to her in your brotherly way that the sooner she marries me the more time we'll have together outside of heaven. I can't very well go at her on that tack. Sounds slushy, but you know there's a good chance of my not coming home, and she insists on waiting."
With all his soul George shrank from such a task. He glanced at the other's long, athletic limbs.
"There are worse fates than widowhood for war brides," he said, brutally.
Lambert made a wry face.
"All the more reason for grabbing what happiness I can."
"Pure selfishness!" George charged him.
"You talk like a fond parent," Lambert answered. "I believe Betty is the only one who doesn't think in those terms. She has other reasons; ridiculous ones. When she tells them to you you'll come on my side."
"Perhaps," George said, vaguely.
Betty's obstinacy wasn't Lambert's only worry. Several times he opened his mouth as if to speak, and apparently thought better of it. George could guess the sense of those unexpressed phrases, and could understand why Lambert should find it difficult to voice them to him. It wasn't until they were in the sand of the company street, indeed, that Lambert managed to state his difficulty, in whispers, so that the sleeping barracks shouldn't be made restless. George noticed that the other didn't mention Sylvia's name, but it was there in every word, with a sort of apology for her, and a relief that she wasn't after all going to marry one so much older and less graceful than herself.
"I wish you'd suggest a way for me to pull out. I've thought it over. I can't think of any pretty one, but I don't want to be under obligations any longer to a man who has been treated so shabbily."
It amused George to find himself in the position of a Sinclair, fighting with Lambert to spare Blodgett's feelings. For Blodgett, Lambert's proposed action would be the final humiliation.
A day or two later, in fact, Lambert showed George a note he had had from Blodgett.
"Never let this come up again," a paragraph ran. "If it made any difference between me and the rest of the family I'd feel I'd got more than I deserve. I know I'm not good enough for her. Let it go at that——"
"You're right," Lambert said. "He's entitled to be met just there. I've decided it shall make no difference to the business."
George was relieved, but Lambert, it was clear, resented the situation, blamed it on Sylvia, and couldn't wholly refrain from expressing his disapproval.
"No necessity for it in the first place. Can't see why she picked him, why she does a lot of things."
"Spoiled!" George offered with a happy grin.
"Prefer to say that myself," Lambert grunted, "although God knows I'm beginning to think it's true enough."