"Thank you."
Stella Croyle dried the tears from her cheeks and stood up.
"I have been foolish. You won't find me like that again," she cried, and she helped Hillyard on with his coat. She went to the door to see him out, but stopped as she grasped the handle.
All Hillyard's talk about himself had passed in at one ear and out at the other. But every word which he had spoken about Harry Luttrell was written on her heart. And one phrase had kindled a tiny spark of hope. She had put it aside by itself, wanting more knowledge about it, and meaning to have that knowledge before Hillyard departed. She put her question now, with the door still closed and her back to it.
"You said that Harry had to join the army. What did you mean by that?"
Hillyard hesitated.
"Did he not tell you himself?"
"No."
Hillyard stood between loyalty to his friend and the recollection of Stella Croyle's tears. If Luttrell had not told her—why then——
"Then I don't well see how I can," he said uncomfortably.