'Not at all! She was ever admiring the rose or flower I had in my button-hole, and when I begged her acceptance thereof, it duly figured in her bosom or hair afterwards, while she flattered herself, no doubt, in the depths of her French imaginings—but I shall teach these Dunkelds a sharp lesson ere I go.'
'Now that you talk of it—and now especially—I do not see why you should go to the East at all,' said Mrs. Deroubigne, while Mary grew paler than before, and felt as if roused from a startling dream.
'True, true, but needs must now. In sorrow for the loss of Mary, I volunteered for special service abroad; and so I find her but to lose her again,' exclaimed Colville.
'Special service!' she asked, in a strange voice. 'What is that?'
'It means detached for staff work where—where operations are in progress,' said he, evasively.
'Speak to the point, Captain Colville,' said Mrs. Deroubigne. 'You go to the north-west frontier of India.'
'India!' repeated Mary, with whitening lips. 'Has life so little joy for you?'
'It had but little till within this hour, dearest Mary.'
'Can you not withdraw your application?' said Mrs. Deroubigne.
'As a soldier's widow, you should know that, unless overtaken by illness, I could not do so with honour.'