"How clever of you," she said, "to see it!"
"I didn't see it then," he said simply, "because there wasn't a war on. We've both had to pay for my stupidity."
"And mine. And my cowardice. I ought to have trusted you to see, or risked it. We should have had three--no, two--years."
"Well, anyhow, we've got this evening."
"We haven't. I've got to drive Belgians from nine till past midnight."
"We've got Friday. Suppose they'll give me leave to get married in. I say--how about to-morrow evening?"
"I can't. Yes, I can. At least, I shall. There's a girl I know who'll drive for me. They'll have to give me leave to get married in, too."
She thought: "I can't go to Flanders now, unless he's sent out. If he is, nothing shall stop me but his coming back again."
It seemed to her only fair and fitting that they should snatch at their happiness and secure it, before their hour came.
She tried to turn her mind from the fact that at Mons the British line was being pressed back and back. It would recover. Of course it would recover. We always began like that. We went back to go forwards faster, when we got into our stride.