'After what he saw, and what he no doubt thinks, how can I expect to do so? My greatest affliction is that I must seem so black in his eyes. Yet it is impossible for me not to feel the deepest and most tender interest in him—to watch with aching heart the news from the seat of war, and all the movements of his regiment—the movements in which he must have a share.'
'Things cannot, nay, must not, go on thus between you. The false position should be cleared up, explained away. What is to be done?'
'Grin and bear it, as the saying is, Dulcie. Nothing can avail us now—nothing,' said Finella, with a break in her voice.'
'Finella, let me help you and him.'
'How?'
'I shall write about it to Florian. I mean to write him now, at all events.'
Despite all she had been told about the antecedents of the latter, Finella blushed scarlet at the vision of what Hammersley—the proud and haughty Vivian Hammersley—would think of his love-affairs being put into the hands of one of his own soldiers; but Dulcie, thinking only of who Florian was, did not see it in this light, or that it would seem like a plain attempt to lure an angry lover back again.
'Unless you wish me to die of shame,' said Finella, after a bitter pause—'shame and utter mortification—you will do no such thing, Dulcie Carlyon!'
The latter looked at the speaker, and saw that her dark eyes were flashing dangerously as she added:
'He left me in a gust of rage and suspicion of his own free will; and of his own free will must he return.'