'To-morrow! I say, old man, have you heard from her?'
I nodded. 'No, her letter contained nothing that would interest you,' I continued as I noted the look of inquiry in his eyes. 'Why don't you go with me? It would seem quite natural, seeing you are off to the front so soon.'
He hesitated a second, and then shook his head. 'No, Luscombe,' he said, 'she'll send for me if she wants me.'
'That's not the way to win a girl. How can she send for you?'
'I seem to have lost confidence since my memory came back,' he replied. 'When I told her I loved her, although I didn't seem to have the ghost of a chance, I felt confident, serene. Now I'm sure of nothing.'
'Nothing?' I queried. 'Do you mean to say that—that your faith in God and that kind of thing is gone?'
'No, no,' he replied quickly. 'That remains. It's the foundation of everything, everything. But God doesn't do things in the way we expect, and when we expect. After all, our life here is only a fragment, and God has plenty of time. He's never in a hurry. It's all right, old man. She'll be mine some time. If not in this world, in another.'
'If I loved a girl, I'd move heaven and earth to get her in this life.'
'Yes, don't fear that I'm not going to do my bit; but I've had a little time for thinking, and I've had to adjust myself to—to my new conditions.'
'With what results? How do things strike you now?'