"What?"
"That I may come to you--after the war."
She stood a moment motionless, and then withdrew her hand.
"That would be equivalent to a hope which I cannot give," she returned soberly. "When the war ends I shall probably no longer be Willifred Hardy." My heart beat like a trip-hammer; I could hear it in the silence.
"The man yonder?"
She bent her head.
"You will not," my voice firm with swift conviction. "If that is all, I am not afraid. If you loved him would you be standing here even to say a word of farewell? Whatever pledge may be between you, on your part it is not love. You cannot deny this--not to me! Yes, and you are already beginning to know him. Remember, I have had to listen to some conversation between you--I know his style. Ah, yes, I will go, because I dare not keep you out here longer, but, if God lets me live, I am going to find you again. Yes, I am; don't doubt that, little girl. I could stand back for a real man, but not for Le Gaire; that's not in human nature. See, I have your ribbon yet, and am going to wear it."
"Without my permission?"
I reached out my arm and drew her gently against the fence barrier, so close I could look down into her eyes, gazing up into mine startled by the sudden movement.
"Lip permission, yes--I prefer to read consent elsewhere."