A silence. Then the voice spoke again.
'How long will it take you, George, getting to the front?'
'About twenty-four hours from the base, perhaps more. It's a weary business.'
'Will you be in action at once?'
'I think so. That part of the line's very short of men.'
'When shall I hear?'
He laughed.
'By every possible post, I should think, darling. You've given me post-cards enough.'
And he tapped his breast-pocket, where lay the little writing-case she had furnished for every imaginable need.
'George!'