“It seems to me it depends on what your duty demands of you at the moment,” she rejoined. “Nerves are a luxury. You can afford them when it makes no difference to other people whether you're afraid or not—but not when it does.”
“And from what deeps did you draw such profound wisdom?” he asked quizzically.
Sara laughed a little.
“I had it well rubbed into me by my Uncle Patrick,” she replied. “It was his Credo.”
“And yet, I can understand any one's nerves cracking suddenly—after a prolonged strain.”
“I don't think yours would,” responded Sara contentedly, with a vivid recollection of their expedition to the island and its aftermath.
“Possibly not. But I suppose no man can be dead sure of himself—always.”
“Will you come in?” asked Sara as they paused at Sunnyside gate.
“Not to-day, I think. I had better begin to accustom myself to doing without you, as I am going away so soon”—smiling.
“I wish you were not going,” she rejoined discontentedly. “I so wanted you and Elisabeth to meet. Must you go?”