“Betty! Tell me that you could not think of such a man!”
“Donald Hilton! Sit right down here by me and apologize for thinking that I could!” Betty dimpled, but was in earnest, as Donald could see. He dropped down upon the sofa again and duly apologized.
“It makes me go crazy to think of what danger you were in. Betty, could you wait for me? If I get through this war, may I come back to you? You know well enough how dearly I love you,—don’t you? If I could only think you cared enough for me!”
“Don’t be too humble, Donald. Who was it that looked into the mirror of my fate?”
“Betty!”
“Besides I need somebody to take care of me,—no more adventures for me!”
Foolish, perhaps, but happy conversation followed, about when they first met, the mirror on Hallowe’en, the skating at the Ice Carnivals, and other occasions at school. “I knew that you were my girl when we first skated together,” said Donald. “See here,” and Donald took from his pocket a little leather case. “Here is the picture of the girl of all the world for me, and the little pansy that caught on my button that Hallowe’en night. They never leave me.”
Betty noticed how white and worn Donald seemed and thought to ask him if he had had any breakfast.
“Why no, Betty, none of us have. We thought that there would be something here, though if you had not been here, we would have kept on hunting.”
“There is plenty here. Let me show you the things in the pantry. I’ll fix you something nice.”