“Yes, Olivia. And you reap sorrow. And I dishonour.”
“Not that, Charles. We reap the world.”
“Ah no, Olivia. This is the end of everything. For me it is.”
“No, Charles,” she said. “We were living in one little corner of our hearts, you and I. In fool’s paradises. We were prisoners. This is not the end. We only begin here.”
He sighed, thinking of the shame of the morning’s work in Tolu. “My father’s sword,” he thought. “In that cause.”
“Charles,” she asked, “haven’t you. Something more to tell me?”
He thought for a moment, dully, wondering in his blurred brain if she wished to hear more of the battle.
“No,” he said. “No. That is the end.”
She stood up, facing him, her great eyes looking down on him.
“I must go now to the wounded,” she said softly. “Edward and the doctor will be wanting me. God bless you, Charles.”