Bertie Merriam came to her. "You slept well?" he asked.
"Oh yes. Why not? I was so at peace. Say nothing this morning. We said good-bye last night."
"Yes, I know, but——" He was obviously embarrassed. "But I want to ask you one thing. It'll seem jolly absurd, I know, and rather conceited."
"Will it?" asked Winnie, with bright eyes glistening.
"Well, if there should be any little row in India—I know people at home don't take much notice of them—any little expedition or anything of that kind, could you keep your eye on it? Because we might have the luck to be in it, and I should like you to know how the regiment shows up."
"If you've the luck to be getting killed, I'll read about it," said Winnie. She smiled with trembling lips. "It's really the least I can do for a friend, Major Merriam."
"Killed? Oh, rot! Just see first how near to full strength we turn out—that's my great test—and then, if you read of any other fellows showing us the way, you might let me know, and I'll inquire about it—because we don't reckon to let it happen very often. Hullo, that whistle really sounds as if she meant business!" He gripped her hand tightly and looked into her eyes. "Here's the end, Winnie!"
"I wouldn't have had it not happen; would you?"
"I shall often wonder if I did right."
She smiled. "You needn't. What you did would have made no difference—only you'd have been a little less loyal to your duty."