“Too late!” said the Canon. “You’ll have to turn out of Little Cloisters, I foresee that.”
Rosamund sat down, leaned towards him with her hands clasped tightly together, and, in her absolutely unself-conscious way, began to tell him and Beattie what she felt about Welsley, or something of what she felt. A good deal she could only have told to Father Robertson. When she had finished, Canon Wilton said, in his rather abrupt and blunt way:
“Well, but if your husband comes home unexpectedly? You can’t stay here then, can you?”
Beatrice, who was still on the window seat, leaned out, and began to speak to Robin below her in a quiet voice which could scarcely be heard within the room.
“But Dion sees no prospect of coming home yet.”
“I heard to-day from some one in London that the C.I.V. may be back before Christmas.”
“Dion doesn’t say so.”
“It mayn’t be true.”
“Dion writes that no one out there has any idea when the war will end.”
“Probably not. But the C.I.V. mayn’t be needed all through the war. Most of them are busy men who’ve given up a great deal out of sheer patriotism. Fine fellows! They’ve done admirable work, and the War Office may decide that they’ve done enough. Things out there have taken a great turn since Roberts and Kitchener went out. The C.I.V. may come marching home long before peace is declared.”