He made a feint at one of his cheerful smiles, but Miss Lorraine sat still.
"Oh," she said at last, "if I could go through it for you! Women can bear sickness—they are accustomed to it. Oh, Philip, can I do nothing, nothing for you?"
Colonel Douglas sat down and partially turned his face from her, as if he could not meet her eyes.
"I would like," he said a little brokenly—"at the end—you know I am not fond of nurses—I would like to think, you would be near me. Would you come, if I sent for you, Frances?"
"To the end of the earth," she said. "But you are not going far away, Philip?"
"The doctor advised my going to the South of France. He suggested first a sea voyage, but I could not stand that. You see I have been such an active man, that I don't think I could stand the life on board ship when you're thrown upon yourself so. I thought perhaps I would try the Riviera, and yet—"
Here a little fiery sparkle shot into his tired-looking eyes. "Why should I try to prolong my life? I shall be away from my friends. No, I will die in harness, Frances."
Then a great impulse seized the woman who loved him. She rose from her seat and stepped across to him.
"Philip, you must carry out the doctor's orders, you must go to the Riviera, but—will you take me with you?"
The Colonel did not start, or show any surprise at her words. But he put one of his hands on her shoulder, and looked at her.