Sir Reginald looked at the end of his cigar. "There can be no question of marriage now."
"Why not?"
"My boy!"
There was a long silence. Father and son looked into one another's eyes. The father was the first to lower his gaze.
"I love her, sir."
"Yes, of course." Sir Reginald coughed. "I'm sorry for you. But you're young. You—you don't know your own mind."
Again a short silence. "Has anything I ever did at school or after I left school, at Sandhurst or at home or since I joined the Flying Corps, suggested to you that I don't know my own mind? That I am fickle or changeable?"
"No." Sir Reginald was not used to being questioned by his son. He was off his guard.
"I've never shown myself a coward in any way, father?"
The old man started, came a step nearer to his boy and looked at him again. And his eyes lighted as he smiled. "Good heavens, Jim, you a coward! My dear boy!"