For just the fraction of a second Jack hesitated. Yet, in that time, she had a sufficient opportunity to think over the entire situation. Captain MacDonnell had not asked her to ride with him since the afternoon, when her recklessness had displeased Frank. Since then she had never attempted to persuade Frank that his demand, that she never ride with Captain MacDonnell again, was unreasonable. Nevertheless, she felt fairly sure that under the present circumstance he could not object. Surely, Frank could not be so ungracious as to be vexed with her for disobeying his wish at such a time. She would, of course, ride carefully and take no foolish risks.
Jack gave Vive into Captain MacDonnell's keeping.
"Yes, I'll go if you'll come back to dinner with Frank and the rest of us," she agreed. "I'll be ready in five minutes."
Jack sent the nurse to look after the baby and in ten minutes was ready for the ride.
It was a sultry August afternoon, very still, and yet with a strange throbbing in the air of many tiny insects. The hawthorn was no longer in bloom, but the two friends rode along the English lanes sweet with blossoming elderberry and blackberry bushes.
Curious how, when one comes to say farewell, there is so little that seems worth saying!
During the first part of the ride Jack and Captain MacDonnell were frequently silent, except that Jack, of course, made the conventional inquiries one might ask of a soldier. Was he in good condition? Did he have everything he needed? Was there anything she could do for him—such as looking after his house while he was gone?
In response to each question Captain MacDonnell shook his head. He had turned over his house to be used for the Belgian refugees.
They were actually on their way home before he began to talk.
Then he took a letter from his pocket.