"Well, then, dear, I shall say good-bye, now. You see I shall be out most of this night, and if Tumpany and I are to catch the early train from Wordingham and have all the guns ready, we must leave here before you will be awake. I mean, you sleep into the morning a little now, don't you?"
He seemed anxious as he asked.
"Generally, Gillie. Then if it is to be good-bye for two days, good-bye my dear, dear husband. Come——"
She held out her arms, lying there, and he had to bend into her embrace.
"I shall pray for you all the time you are away," she whispered. "I shall think of my boy every minute. God bless you and preserve you, my dear husband."
She was doubtless about to say more, to murmur other words of sacred wifely love, when her arms slid slowly away from him and lay motionless upon the counterpane.
Immediately they did so, the man's figure straightened itself and stood upright by the side of the bed.
"Well, I'll go now," he said. "Good-night, dear."
He turned his full, palish face upon her, the yellow point of flame, coming through the top of the candle shade, showed it in every detail.
Fixed, introspective eyes, dreamy painted smile, a suave, uninterested farewell.