Duke had deserted his master and walked over to her. He never left his master alone, but if Eugenia were in the room, he understood that she required his sympathy and understanding the more.
But Captain Castaigne’s manner was now both aggrieved and puzzled.
“You won’t be with me until tomorrow, Gene? Why are you deserting me tonight?”
Apparently Captain Castaigne had not noticed Richard Thornton’s presence.
Dick had come only a few feet into the room, for at Captain Castaigne’s first words he had stopped and without speaking was observing the other man closely.
He saw, of course, that Captain Castaigne appeared like a man who had been wretchedly ill. He was thin and languid, his face had the wounded man’s pallor; besides, there was the effect of the bandage. But Dick was accustomed to seeing wounded men. What he did not behold in Captain Castaigne’s face was the blankness, the expression of weakness which he had been led to expect.
Yet even while he watched, Eugenia had walked over and taken both of Captain Castaigne’s hands into her own and was leaning over, holding them closely for a moment.
Then she said with perfect calmness:
“No, dear, I did not understand you. Of course I shall not leave you tonight and never again until you wish me to go.”
Then Captain Castaigne had laughed with a suggestion of his old teasing gayety toward his wife.