"Ah, a man can fight, can't he?"
"Oh, but so can a girl. I'm fighting too."
"I've no one to fight for."
Daisy turned quickly towards her: there were tears in her eyes. Surely she was a sorry comforter: perhaps she had come as much seeking as to bring comfort.
"You don't look very happy," remarked Daisy.
"Don't talk about me, Daisy. It will never make the least difference between you and me. I wanted to tell you. You know we are going? You must write to me, dear, and some day you and Mr. Norburn must come to England and stay with me, when I have my own house. Promise now! I—I don't want to lose you quite."
"Of course I will write, but you won't care for our news when you are gone."
"Indeed I shall care to hear of you and Mr. Norburn, and—of your father too."
"Will you really? Oh, then I shall have lots to say. Father always gives one lots to say about him," said Daisy proudly.
"Tell him he mustn't despair."