In September, with his suspicions of Gloria, the company of Dot had become tedious, then almost intolerable. He was nervous and irritable from lack of sleep; his heart was sick and afraid. Three days ago he had gone to Captain Dunning and asked for a furlough, only to be met with benignant procrastination. The division was starting overseas, while Anthony was going to an officers' training-camp; what furloughs could be given must go to the men who were leaving the country.
Upon this refusal Anthony had started to the telegraph office intending to wire Gloria to come South—he reached the door and receded despairingly, seeing the utter impracticability of such a move. Then he had spent the evening quarrelling irritably with Dot, and returned to camp morose and angry with the world. There had been a disagreeable scene, in the midst of which he had precipitately departed. What was to be done with her did not seem to concern him vitally at present—he was completely absorbed in the disheartening silence of his wife....
The flap of the tent made a sudden triangle back upon itself, and a dark head appeared against the night.
"Sergeant Patch?" The accent was Italian, and Anthony saw by the belt that the man was a headquarters orderly.
"Want me?"
"Lady call up headquarters ten minutes ago. Say she have speak with you. Ver' important."
Anthony swept aside the mosquito-netting and stood up. It might be a wire from Gloria telephoned over.
"She say to get you. She call again ten o'clock."
"All right, thanks." He picked up his hat and in a moment was striding beside the orderly through the hot, almost suffocating, darkness. Over in the headquarters shack he saluted a dozing night-service officer.
"Sit down and wait," suggested the lieutenant nonchalantly. "Girl seemed awful anxious to speak to you."