“Supposing you were to die first?” suggested she, not flippantly, but with an awestruck consideration of possibilities.
“A soldier can always last out till his duty’s done,” said George, with quiet conviction.
After this Nouna remained silent a little while, but that her ideas had not been working in quite the desired direction was evident when she next spoke.
“If, as you say, your love will keep me safe and good whatever I do, I needn’t be so particular,” she argued, “and it won’t do me any harm to go and see this Mrs. Chloris White, and ask her to leave poor Dicky alone, and let him meet some one who will be a blessing to him. I want him to marry Ella.”
George was thunderstruck.
“Go and see Chloris White! I’d as soon let you go to the Morgue!”
“But I know I could persuade her to give him up; I know just what I would say, just how I would look. I’ve thought it all over; and surely anything’s better than that he should rush back to her as soon as he gets to town, and undo all the good we’ve done him in the country.”
She spoke with a pretty little matronly air of perfectly sincere benevolence.
“My dear child,” said her husband decisively, laying his hand on her head with his gravest air of authority, “you cannot go; it is out of the question. You must not even mention such a wild idea to any one; they would be horribly shocked. But we’ll keep poor Dicky safe among us by much better means than that, I promise you. So now go to sleep, and don’t ever let such an idea come into your head again.”
She let herself be kissed quite brightly and submissively, and rubbed her cheek against his with affection which might have been taken to argue docility. But her own fantastic notion of helping her friend remained in her mind quite unmoved by her husband’s prohibition.