“You can call yourself what you like,” said Lionel at last. “I know what you are, that’s enough for me, and she knew it; that’s one reason I got to caring for her.
“I dare say that seems a rummy thing to you, to care for a woman because she cares for another man. But it’s a fact.”
Winn moved uneasily. Then he said abruptly, “Look here, young ’un, I was wrong before when I asked you to step in instead of me, but I’m not wrong now. You can take it from me she’ll marry you in the end. She’s young; be patient. I dare say she’ll think for a time she’s had enough, but she hasn’t. There’s no good living a lonely life. We may both get done in, of course. But I don’t fancy we shall. I want you to promise me not to get killed if you can help it.
“Keep away from me if you think I’m getting into trouble, because I sha’n’t be getting into trouble, I shall be getting out of it, d’you see?”
The guns sounded nearer, a machine gun rattled sharply in their ears, as if it had been let off in their dug-out.
“I sha’n’t care for anybody else,” said Lionel, quietly, “and I shall wait all my life for her. As for not being killed — you don’t want me to shirk my job, of course; bar that, I sha’n’t ask for trouble.”
Winn said, “All right — then that’s that! I’m going to sleep.”
They neither of them slept.
It came very quickly and confusedly toward dawn. The silence was rent across like a piece of torn silk. The crash of bombs, the peppery, sharp detonation of rifles broke up the sullen air. Out of the dark, vague shapes loomed, the trench filled with the sound of deep breathing and scuffling, and the shriek of sudden pain.
Death and mud and darkness closed together.