'I mean much more. You're still to be his friend, still to go and see him, still to eat bread-and-butter. And, Peggy, you're still to love him—to love him as I do.'
Peggy looked across at him, and looked with new eyes. He had been the dear friend of many sunny hours; but now he wore a look and spoke in tones that the sunny hours had not called forth.
'I stand by him, whatever happens, and I want you to stand by him too.'
'If it came to the point, you'd stand by him and let me go?' she asked with a sudden quick understanding of his meaning.
'Yes,' said Tommy simply. He did not tell her there would be any sacrifice in what she suggested.
'I don't believe I can do it,' moaned Peggy.
'Yes, you can. Be just the same to him, only—only rather nicer, you know. There's only one chance for him, you see.'
'Is there any chance?' she asked dolefully. Her eyes met his. 'Yes, perhaps I know what you mean,' said she.
They were silent a moment. Then he came over to her and took her hand. 'Word of honour, Peggy,' he said, 'to let neither Airey himself nor any of the rest know? You must connive, as I did.'