“This settles any chance of honeymooning,” he said presently. “We’ll have to have that later. It’s rough on you all round.”
She drew closer to him.
“I’m not minding that. Those things don’t seem to matter any more. If only you come through!”
He squeezed her hand hard, and they were silent again. The possibility of losing him had wrought a considerable change in Brenda’s view of things. Her own phrase perhaps best expressed this alteration:
“Those things don’t seem to matter any more.” The sting of bitterness had gone out of her sorrow. Those minor distresses, the jealousy of another’s claim, and the knowledge that she did not possess his entire heart, shrunk to inconsiderable dimensions in the face of this greater disaster—before the haunting spectre of possible death for him. The fear of losing him in a sudden and tragic manner made him very precious to her. There was no room in her mind for any but loving thoughts.
“What a lot of things have happened,” he said presently, “since you and I first mooned about this beach! I remember having a feeling in those days that you had come into my life to some purpose... come to stay. One knows somehow instinctively the people who are going to count.”
He stooped suddenly and kissed her lips.
“Salt kisses,” he said... “like the salt kisses I first took from you.” He held her chin in his hand and tilted her face upward slightly. “The spray has got into your dear eyes... There were no tears there on that other occasion.”
She smiled at him and attempted to wink the tears away.
“It’s only spray... don’t heed that. Go on talking... I want to hear you talk. These remembrances... I love to hear them.”