"I have made up my mind."
"Ah--and what----?"
"You're right. After the war--if I'm alive."
"No need for that. In six months."
"Then in six months we'll get married. I'll tell Vanda." He put out his hand. Ian wrung it and left the room without another word.
VIII
Ian had no morbid intention of brooding over his troubles, sentimental or material. He was going to fight the one as he was already fighting the other, as he struggled against the starvation and disease which threatened the neighborhood, or against the difficulties of plowing and sowing within range of German guns.
He went into his mother's dressing-room that night with the firm intention of forgetting the evening's events as soon as possible, and her greeting helped him.
"What do you think?" she said. "Vanda wants to go to Warsaw and nurse, instead of stopping with us."
He looked at her with tired eyes.