"Gone out," he mumbled, struggling into a straighter posture, "back soon."
"Where has he gone?"
He shook his head. "Dunno. Asked me to stay—take care of you, m'dear."
She turned away from him, in disgust.
"Oh—don' worry," he went on—"not goin' bother you. After t'morr'—won' see me, y'know——"
She turned quickly and he laughed again.
"Goin' join m'regimen'. Furlough up t'morr'."
She whispered a "Thank God" below her breath as she stood looking at him. And then aloud, gently, in a new kind of pity for him.
"You'd better lie down, Harry, and get some sleep," she said, "or you'll be in no condition to go on duty."
"Thanks. Ought to sleep. Haven' slep' f'r weeks, seems to me. Don' seem to care though."