"Yes, the evenings are stretching out," he said, with a sigh.
"Have you heard from Hugh lately?" I asked.
"No, I have not heard from him. I—I do not expect to; you know that."
"I had a letter from him a few weeks ago," I said, as cheerfully as I could. "He sent me his photograph in his lieutenant's uniform. Have you seen it?"
He shook his head.
"Would you care to?" I asked. "It is in the house close by."
"No," he said, and his voice was almost harsh. "No, I do not wish to see it."
"I have just come from the Parish Church," I said. "The Vicar has received a terrible blow, hasn't he?"
"The Vicar believed in that kind of thing—I never did."
"No," was my answer, "I do not think the Vicar believed in it any more than you. He regards war only as a ghastly necessity. But would you, knowing all you know, realizing all our sufferings, and all we shall have to suffer, have had us do differently?"