"That's nothing," replied Bob; and his voice sounded as though he were weary.
"And what of Nancy?"
"Yes, what of her?"
"I know what she feels, I know that——"
"Mother," Bob interrupted, "I can't bear any more just now; and it's no use talking, my mind's made up."
He left the room as he spoke, and soon after, left the house. He did not have any dinner that night, but spent hours tramping the wild moors at the back of the house. The next day he was in misery. Again and again he reviewed the situation, but he could not change. He could not offer himself to be a legalised murderer, for that was how his country's call appealed to him. It was a battle between Calvary and Militarism, and he could not take the side of Militarism.
When he reached the house in the evening, after a long, lonely walk, his mother pointed to a letter lying on the table.
"It's from Admiral Tresize," he said, after he had read it. "He wants me to go up there to dinner, or as soon afterwards as possible."
"You'll go, of course," said the mother eagerly.
"Yes, I'll go. Of course it is too late for me to get there in time for dinner, but I'll go directly afterwards."