“Let the spirit die,” he thought, “that the body may live!”
He put one arm round his companion.
“If you want me——” he whispered, on a deep breath.
His voice died away in the darkness between the giant cypresses, those trees which watch over the dead in the land of the Turk.
She had said once that the human being can hurt God.
Obscurely he wished to do that.
CHAPTER VI
Mrs. Clarke looked up from a letter written in a large boyish hand which had just been brought out on the terrace of the fountain by the butler.
“Jimmy will be here on Thursday—that is, in Constantinople. The train ought to be in early in the morning.”