"Please, Leon, don't get mad at me, but if you will let me put in your suit-case just one little box of that salve, for your finger-tips, so they don't crack—"
Pausing as he paced to lay cheek to her hair, he patted her. "Three boxes, if you want. Now, how's that?"
"And you won't take it out so soon as my back is turned?"
"Cross my heart."
His touch seemed to set her trembling again, all her illy concealed emotions rushing up. "I can't stand it! Can't! Can't! Take my life—take my blood, but don't take my boy—don't take my boy—"
"Mamma, mamma, is that the way you're going to begin all over again, after your promise?"
She clung to him, heaving against the rising storm of sobs. "I can't help it—can't! Cut out my heart from me, but let me keep my boy—my wonderboy—"
"Oughtn't she be ashamed of herself? Just listen to her, Esther! What will we do with her? Talks like she had a guarantee I wasn't coming back. Why, I wouldn't be surprised if by spring I wasn't tuning up again for a coast-to-coast tour—"
"Spring! That talk don't fool me. Without my boy, the springs in my life are over—"
"Why, ma, you talk like every soldier who goes to war was killed!
There's only the smallest percentage of them die in battle—"