"Yes. But not you, surely. You're hardly fit for duty yet."
"Nonsense. Barring my arm, I'm fit for anything. And if we're in for cholera, I don't see myself leaving Dick to handle the Battery without me."
"You're bound to ask Dr O'Malley's permission, though."
"Yes, worse luck. But I fancy I shall square him. At the same time—it's hard lines——"
He broke off short. The thing did not bear speaking of.
"It is bitterly hard lines, for you both," Honor answered, looking away from him. But she knew the best men of her service too well to suggest that, without straining a point, he might honestly be declared unfit for duty.
"At least it will be a comfort to her having you here," he went on mechanically, because the thing had to be said somehow. "I'll leave a note, of course, but I'd be grateful if you'd take it for me some time in the morning. She may not understand how impossible it is for a man to hold back—on any pretext, at a time like this, and I know I can trust you to make things clear to her. You're more than half a soldier yourself."
"So I ought to be!" Honor answered, inexpressibly touched by his confidence in her. "And of course I would go to her if I were here. But to-morrow I shall be on my way back to Dera with you both."
"Dera!—But that would be madness. Do you suppose Desmond would ever hear of such a thing?"
"I haven't supposed anything about it yet," she answered, smiling. "I only know that I can't let him go down into—all that, alone. Now I must say good-night, and go to him. We'll make all arrangements for the journey," she added, as they shook hands, "and Zyarulla will do the packing for you. So be sure and get some sleep when you have seen Dr O'Malley."