"Let us sit here, Kenny dear," she said. "It is where I shall come and sit every night while you are gone away. I shall sit with my back against it and close my eyes and dream that you are beside me as you are now, with your arms around me and your cheek against mine,—and it will be the trysting place for our thoughts."
"That's wonderful, Viola," he said, impressed. "'The trysting place for our thoughts.' Aye, and that it shall be. Every night, no matter where my body may be or what peril it may be in, I shall be here beside you in my thoughts."
She rested against him, in the crook of his strong right arm, her head against his shoulder, and they both fell silent and pensive under the spell of a wondrous enchantment.
After a while, she spoke, and there was a note of despair in her voice:
"What is to become of us, Kenny? What are we to do?"
"No power on earth can take you away from me now, Minda," he said.
"Ah,—that's it," she said miserably. "You call me Minda,—and still you wonder why I ask what we are to do."
"You mean—about—"
"We can be nothing more to each other than we are now. There is some one else we must think of. I—I forgot her for a little while, Kenny,—I was so happy that I forgot her."
"Were ever two souls so tried as ours," he groaned, and again silence fell between them.