He smiled grimly.
“You can afford to waste a little money,” he said.
“And do you mean to say that you won’t come to see me?” she demanded.
He shook his head.
“You’ll understand why not before you’ve been in England a month—a week, perhaps. And, look here, Ralda, if I were you I shouldn’t let on much about me or the camp—”
She drew herself up.
“Do you think I’m ashamed of you?” she said, fiercely.
He was going to say “No, but you will be,” but he checked himself.
“It’s a bargain, then?” he said. “If you’re unhappy, you come back?”
“Yes,” she said, “if I’ve got to go. But you’ll soon have me back, and then you’ll be sorry enough you sent me away.”