“No, not yet,” she said.
“Why?” he asked.
“I haven’t given my answer,” she said.
“Give it then,” he said, testily.
“I’ve volunteered for active service,” she stammered. “I felt I ought to do something.”
“Why?” he asked. He could put a nasty intonation into that monosyllable. “I should have thought you would answer me first.”
She did not answer, but watched him. She did not like him.
“I only signed yesterday,” she said.
“Why didn’t you leave it till tomorrow? It would have looked better.” He was angry. But he saw a half-frightened, half-guilty look on her face, and during the weeks of anticipation he had worked himself up.
“But put that aside,” he smiled again, a little dangerously. “You have still to answer my question. Having volunteered for war service doesn’t prevent your being engaged to me, does it?”