"Oh, Sydney, if you only knew how I'd love to go--with you and with the children. Why, the children never have seen England."
"That's certainly a fact."
He was regarding her with something quizzical in his eyes.
"Just think of it! Though they pray for the dear homeland every night in their prayers, and for the friends who are at home."
"Are there any friends at home? Do you think any of them would speak to us--to me?"
"Why, Sydney, what a goose you are! They'd be tumbling over each other to get a chance."
"Would they? I shouldn't want them to do that, if only from the point of view of dignity, to say nothing of their getting hurt."
"Just think of the letters I'm always having, and which you get; just look at this heap! There's another from Major Reith; he says that if we won't go to him, the next long leave he gets he'll come here."
"We might bring him back with us."
"And there's one from Margaret, Countess of Cantyre; she's longing to make your acquaintance."