“But your grandfather, Dick! Surely, only a word to him would be enough. He could not refuse to behave handsomely.”
“He never behaved handsomely in his life. He’s a mean old miser, who will probably fool us all in the end, and leave his money to strangers. But, as it’s settled, we need say no more. I suppose I shall see you again before I go—if it matters to you—I suppose you don’t care whether I am killed.”
“Oh, Dick!”
“Yes, I’m disappointed. I did hope that you thought the world well lost for love, and that, having braved the inevitable anger of your father in giving yourself to me, you’d show some feeling, and not look forward eagerly to my leaving you. You seem anxious to be rid of me.”
“Dick! Dick!” cried the girl. “I’m a soldier’s daughter. I—”
“Oh, pray spare me a repetition of your father’s platitudes—I’ve heard them often enough. I don’t 45 know much about the war, but all I’ve heard has set me against it. But never mind! And now, good-bye, my Spartan sweetheart.”
He extended his hand, sullenly and coldly.
“Hush! And don’t be hateful” Dora remonstrated. Then, she added, quickly: “It’s more than ever necessary, Dick, now that you are going away, to keep our secret. You mustn’t anger your grandfather.”
“Oh, yes, of course, we’ll be discreet. And, if I’m killed—well, nobody will know of our engagement.”
“Dick, if you died on the field of battle, I should be proud to proclaim to all the world that—”