"I wouldn't do that for a kingdom. But it's the truth.—I go down on the fifteenth, you know."
"Yes.—I'm sorry."
"Are you? Then why—oh, I don't understand you!" he broke off in despair.
"I'm not sure that I understand myself—yet. It takes time, I suppose."
"Not when the right chap turns up, I fancy. But I'll give you as much time as you want. I have a year's leave due. Shall I take it, and go home?"
She looked rueful.
"A year is a long time. But perhaps that would be best. You might find—some one else there, who understood herself better."
"That's out of the question," he answered almost harshly.
"But at all events,—I'll go."
A prolonged silence followed this statement: and when he spoke again, it was of other things. Elsie followed suit: but the result was not brilliant. She endured the strain as long as she could; then inventing an excuse, she left him; though, to her surprise, it hurt her more than she could have believed a week ago.