"What you did, of course. That is finished. Now tell me about that supper party. What happened? Was Dredlinton really rude to you?"
"Your husband was drunk," Wingate answered. "He was rude to everybody."
"And what was the end of it?"
"I carried him out of the room and locked him up," he told her.
She laughed softly.
"I can see you doing it," she declared. "Are you as strong as you look,
Mr. John Wingate?"
"I am certainly strong enough to carry you away and lock you up if you don't call me John," he replied.
"John, then," she said. "I don't mind calling you John. I like it. How fortunate," she went on lazily, "that we really did get to know one another well in those days at Étaples. It saves one from all those twinges one feels about sudden friendships, for you know, after all, in a way, nothing at Étaples counted. You were just the most charming of my patients, and the most interesting, but still a patient. Here, you simply walk into my life and take me by storm. You make a very foolish woman of me. If I had to say to myself, 'Why, I have known him less than a week!' it would hurt my pride horribly."
"Blessed little bit of shell that found a temporary shelter in my arm!" he exclaimed. "All the same, I feel just as you do. Out there, for all your graciousness, you were something sacred, something far away."
"And here?" she whispered.