I spoke no word of betrayal, but so standing a little to one side of the passing crowds on the sidewalk, looking into that upturned face, seeing those eyes so sad and prayerful above the smiling mouth, I betrayed my wife for the first time, and Lucy read me like a primer, and she knew that I loved her—either still or once more. Of her own emotions her face told me nothing.
"I hear," she said, "that you are both to volunteer as nurses. I think that is splendid."
"If only I can live so as to help someone, Lucy. I am going to try very hard. And I am going to try very hard to be a good husband, for my wife has showered me with noble and priceless gifts."
After a moment: "I hope," said Lucy, "you're going on the American line. The Germans seem to be torpedoing everything else in sight."
"We're sailing on the Lusitania."
"When?"
"Tomorrow."
"They couldn't do anything to her. She's too big. You'll have some distinguished company."
"Really! I haven't seen the passenger list."
"Why, there's Justus Miles Forman, and Charles Frohman, and Alfred Vanderbilt and I don't know who all.… Well," she held out her hand suddenly; "I've chores to do, thousands of them, so good luck to you, and good-by, if I don't see you again."