"Den, I'm going to be frank. 'Tis no case for half confidences. There was a time, I'll confess, when I had a doubt in my own mind of Polly's constancy. She's a pretty creature, and she has had an uncommon lot of admiration. But I wronged her, for she has been ever faithful to you, and she has cared for none other. And the night before I started for Spain she and I talked together, and she spoke out plainly. She said that if you but asked her to come to Verdun she would come, and gladly. She wondered, if indeed you cared for her still, that you had not so done."
A flush came, and Denham's hand was held hard against his forehead. "Never!" he said in a low voice.
"You would not wish to have her out?" incredulously.
"Never! If Polly were here, I might be taken from her in a week,—sent to a dungeon, leaving her unprotected."
"I see. Nay, that would not do. Polly and you must wait a while longer. But you will know now that she is waiting too."
"It might be better for her—not—" Denham broke off.
"Your head is not often like this, I hope?" Jack said, in a concerned tone.
"Not much respite lately."
"Have you had medical advice? Can nothing be done?"
"One infallible remedy, if it might be had."