"No?"
"Not going through any more fuss. I'm too tired. It seemed as if I'd never get here, never get out of that dreadful place, never get out of Paris, never get out of Brest, never get off the boat, never get home! I'm too tired for any more never gets. I'm not going to have talking and planning and arguments and tearful relatives forever and a day more. See if I do! I'm here, and I'm not going to break it again. I'm not going back!"
He reached down to pat her hand with a humouring air.
"Where will you go?"
"That's up to you."
"But what can I——"
"I'm going where you go. I tell you I'm too tired to have any talk."
He sat down beside her.
"Yes, you're a tired child," he told her.
She detected the humoring inflection.