“I suppose not, Bill. I wish to God you did! How is she this morning?”
“I haven’t heard yet,” groaned Billy.
At noon mess, Billy struggled to consume a cracker and a glass of milk. He left Norris attacking a second portion of sirloin and baked potatoes, the last real food he would get until the next day’s tea time at the equator.
On the club veranda, stretched wearily in a canvas chair, Billy lit a cigarette. He was vaguely disturbed. Something was wrong. Jennie wanted him. She was calling. A tightness at the throat, a clutching at the heart, a whispering in the ears, told him to go, to go now, not to wait. He ground out the smoldering stub of his cigarette with an impatient heel and left the club.
Jennie stirred a little and brightened when he tapped on her half-open door and tiptoed in. He drew a chair to the bedside and bent over her. Her wistful eyes seemed to him clearer today. There was a little of their old starriness back again he thought. His pulse quickened hopefully.
“I had a hunch you were lonely,” he explained, “so I came early.”
She smiled, almost happily.
“I was going to ask daddy to send for you,” she confessed.
“It’s funny,” he said. “I had a feeling just now that I ought to come. I can’t make it out. It was like⸺”
“Never mind what, dear. I wanted you and you are here. I wanted⸺”