"There's no place for a woman," Owen exclaimed.
"I think there is. I am a good nurse. I could help him. And out there I should see all that is good in him—oh, Owen, I must love and respect him if I can."
She lifted her eyes to his and for the moment in which their gaze met they acknowledged to each other the naked, hopeless truth. He turned at last with a broken laugh.
"I think hell itself must be paved with useless sacrifice," he said.
"Oh, Owen, don't talk like that—it's terrible. I can't bear it. Help me!"
"How can I help you?" he asked almost impatiently.
"Ride with me to Heerut this afternoon—take me back to Tristram."
She did not realize what she asked. She did not see his face. She was possessed with a restless feverish desire for action—to start out on the road she had chosen.
"Dear, it's not possible. The weather and the roads are too bad. You're not strong enough. A man told me this morning that the river is terribly swollen—dangerous even——"
"I am not afraid," she said proudly. "Owen, won't you help me this last time?"