“And I am sure there is no need that you should. They will be a happy pair, I hope with all my heart; as I hope indeed that you will be happy with M. St. Jean—a prince of worthy fellows—even if a trifle disposed to jealousy. I have had much talk with him in the last few days.”
She was silent a moment turning over a ring on her finger.
“I hope you will be happy also.” Her voice was soft and low and trembled slightly.
“I am a soldier and love my colours. I have health and strength, a sound body and a modicum of wits, trust in myself and strong hope, and kindly memories to carry with me from Morvaix. Why should I not be happy?”
“Despite your bereavements?” And she smiled.
“Or perhaps because of them, Lucette.”
“A double-edged sentence that, surely.”
“And therefore best suited to the thought behind it.”
She lifted her eyes and looked at him searchingly, and he met the look with an easy smile.
“I wonder what you mean?” she said, so earnestly that her tone was almost sad.