"And--and Lady Amabel?" asked Marrion, a grip at her heart.
He laughed joyously.
"No harm done. You see the War Office told me when I got the colonelcy this was up, and it wouldn't have been fair. So we were very good friends. She is a dear little girl, and if I come home--but that's to be seen. Now, ah, how glad I am to be free!"
The words cut deep, spoiling the relief at Marrion's heart; but, after all, why should he not be glad? He was going to do a man's work.
"I'm glad you have the colonelcy," she said soberly; it was the only consolation she could find for herself.
"Glad!" he echoed. "I should think I was! It's been the dream of my life. And do you know the old man was really quite reasonable about it. We talked the thing over, and I told him what we had done, and were prepared to do--or rather not to do. Of course he was in a fury about the foreign service, but he saw I couldn't shirk, so I've promised and vowed everything he wanted. And now"--his eyes shone, content seemed to radiate from him--"I feel, Marmie, as if I were beginning a new life. I've only had to obey orders hitherto, and deuced stupid many of them have seemed to me; but now I am head and the men are splendid--they'd follow me anywhere. So--so we are going to do something, I expect."
The light in his eyes had steadied, he took up his bonnet, then stood for a moment looking at her, the embodiment of a soldier of fortune going out, careless, to seek adventure.
"And you, my dear," he said doubtfully, "are you sure you can manage?"
"Quite sure," she replied cheerfully. "Perhaps I shan't stop here. I may want to see the world, too."
He laughed.