"You needn't," she said; "they know all right."
She thought: "This is what he wants me to tell them about--afterwards."
"Yes, but--I must have hurt them--hurt them horribly--lots of times. I wish I hadn't.
"But" he went on, "they're funny, you know. Dad actually thought it idiotic of us to do this. He said it would only make it harder for us when I had to go. They don't see that it's just piling it on--going from one jolly adventure to another.
"I'm afraid, though, what he really meant was it was hard on you; because the rest of it's all my show."
"But it isn't all your show, Nicky darling. It's mine, and it's theirs--because we haven't grudged you your adventure."
"That's exactly how I want you to feel about it."
"And they're assuming that I shan't come back. Which, if you come to think of it, is pretty big cheek. They talk, and they think, as though nobody ever got through. Whereas I've every intention of getting through and of coming back. I'm the sort of chap who does get through, who does come back."
"And even if I wasn't, if they studied statistics they'd see that it's a thousand chances to one against the Boches getting me--just me out of all the other chaps. As if I was so jolly important.
"No; don't interrupt. Let's get this thing straight while we can. Supposing--just supposing I didn't get through--didn't come back--supposing I was unlike myself and got killed, I want you to think of that, not as a clumsy accident, but just another awfully interesting thing I'd done.