She slipped her hand over his.
“Of course they would have done it anyhow,” she said softly.
“You aren't going to get up and go away?”
“Why should I?” she asked. “I only feel—oh, Graham, how wretched you must have been.”
Something in her voice made him sit up straighter. He knew now that it had always been Delight, always. Only she had been too good for him. She had set a standard he had not hoped to reach. But now things were different. He hadn't amounted to much in other things, but he was a soldier now. He meant to be a mighty good soldier. And when he got his commission—
“You won't mind, then, if I come in to see you now and then?”
“Mind? Why, Graham!”
“And you don't think I'm quite hopeless, do you?”
There were tears in her eyes, but she answered bravely:
“I believe in you every minute. But then I think I always have.”