“But, my dearest boy,” she said, “how are we to marry? What is to become of your career and my career?”
“I’ve left my career!” cried Captain Douglas with the first clear note of irritation in his voice.
“Oh! don’t let us quarrel,” she cried. “Don’t let us talk of all those distant things. Let us be happy. Let us enjoy just this lovely day and the sunshine and the freshness and the beauty.... Because you know we are snatching these days. We have so few days together. Each—each must be a gem.... Look, dear, how the breeze sweeps through these tall dry stems that stick up everywhere—low broad ripples.”
She was a perfect work of art, abolishing time and obligations.
For a time they walked in silence. Then Captain Douglas said, “All very well—beauty and all that—but a fellow likes to know where he is.”
She did not answer immediately, and then she said, “I believe you are angry because you have come away from France.”
“Not a bit of it,” said the Captain stoutly. “I’d come away from anywhere to be with you.”
“I wonder,” she said.
“Well,—haven’t I?”
“I wonder if you ever are with me.... Oh!—I know you want me. I know you desire me. But the real thing, the happiness,—love. What is anything to love—anything at all?”