"Does it hang up your promotion?" Catherine cried out.
"It does. I heard that this morning, indirectly."
Catherine pulled herself to her feet and stood beside him, hesitantly brushing his hair, moving her finger down to the deep crease between his eyes.
"See here," she said, lightly. "You aren't so done for as all that. You know it."
He thrust his arm violently around her, drew her down to the arm of the chair, his head pressing into her shoulder.
"And you weren't here!" he cried. "There was no one——"
"Poor boy." Her hand touched his head, softly, sensitive to the crispness of his heavy hair.
"You haven't cared what happened to me." His words came muffled.
"Oh, haven't I?" Her fingers crept down to his cheek. "Perhaps I have."