“Cannot you come back here—in spite of it all?”
“Come back?”
“Yes.”
“Moy-Thompson wants me to come back. He thinks that I am so unimportant that—it does n't matter.”
“You will—promise that you will!”
“Ah, it is all so useless,” he said, shaking his head. “Before, when I had built up a kind of opinion of myself it was hard enough, but now, when that is all gone—”
“Oh! I wonder if I can make you understand”—her eyes were flaming—“you must—you must. Don't you see that you 're being given such a chance! Think of the pluck of it—after all that has happened—to come back, knowing what they think of you, knowing what you think of yourself. Oh! I envy you. I believe the only thing we 're in the world for is to have courage—that answers everything—and some of us have such fat, easy lives that we've no chance at all. But you to come back with your teeth set, to build it all up again, to will it all back! Oh! it's splendid! And Archie and I will have our happy, ordinary existences—just going along—and you 'll be here doing the finest thing in the world. I'd change places with you to-morrow,” she magnificently ended up.
“You see it like that?” he said slowly almost to himself.
“Of course I see it like that. Why, I believe that's what all this term's been for—to bring to a head—to show you your great chance. That 's life—everything leading up to the one big thing—and now this is yours.”
“My God!” he whispered, “If I could!”