'What do you mean, Florian—have you lost your senses?' she asked in sore perplexity. 'Where have you come from last?'
'Plymouth; in a paper there I saw a notice of your terrible loss, and resolved to see, even if I could not speak with you.'
'And you came——'
'To see you, my lost darling, once again. Oh, Dulcie, I thought I should die if I left England and sailed for Africa without doing so. I got a day's leave and am here.'
'But why have you done this?'
'This—what?'
'Soldiering!'
'Penniless, hopeless, what else could I do?—besides, I thought you had cast me off when you sent me back this locket,' he added, producing the gift referred to.
'That locket was stolen from me on the night you left Revelstoke—literally wrenched from my neck, as I told you in my letter—the letter you never answered.'
'I received no letter, Dulcie—but your locket was taken from you by whom?'