He bowed his head over her hand and kissed it passionately.
"If I could spare you this pain," he said, "I'd take a thousand lives—and lose them to do it!"
"No! no!" she murmured. "Keep one, Julian!"
He lifted his head and looked at her steadily.
"I swear I'll keep it," he said. "I'll keep it, and bring it back to you, cost what it may."
It did not look as if it were going to cost very much, with the light clouds passing overhead, and the soft down grasses under them; and their great citadels of youth and love about them, unmenaced and erect.
"I've a piece of work I've got to do," Julian went on, "and I can't tell you anything about it. It'll take me three months, I fancy. I can fight afterward."
She looked at him with eyes in which astonishment turned almost hostile.
"Not fighting?" she said. "But what do you mean, Julian? If we go in, every one must fight. I know you're not a soldier, but there'll be volunteers. With all your adventures and experiences, they are sure to give you a good post. Everybody knows you. What do you mean—a job you can't tell me about—unless, of course it's something naval?"
Julian turned his face to the wild thyme. He shook his head.