"I wish he could be told," murmured she, her voice far away.
"I couldn't do it to save my soul. What would he say?" There was an awed anxiety in his voice.
"I don't care what other people say, but I do care what he says. He seems so honest, so far above tricks of this kind."
"What's one man's opinion, anyhow, especially when he's to be buried in Manila for years?"
"Oh, Hugh! How lonely he will be in that strange place. And how dreadful it will be in us to sneak away from him like cowards, just as if we cared nothing for him at all. He doesn't deserve that, does he?"
"No, he doesn't, that's a fact. We can't treat him like a dog."
"I wish he could be told," sighed she pensively.
"When?"
"You might try to tell him at any time," she said, a perceptible strain in her voice.
"I'll tell you what I'll do," said he, taking her hand in his. "I will tell him the day before we reach Manila."