“I can’t.”
“Father won’t go without you, I believe. Won’t you come, if I ask you?”
“No.”
“Work, I suppose,” said the girl; “the work that you love better than anything in the world.”
“You’re wrong there.” His voice was not quite steady now. “But it’s work that has to have my first consideration now. And there is one special responsibility that I can’t evade, for the present, anyway.”
“And afterward?” She dared not look at him as she spoke.
“Ah, afterward. There’s too much ‘perhaps’ in the afterward down here. We science grubbers on the outposts enlist for the term of the war,” he said, smiling wanly.
“How can I—can we go and leave you here?” she demanded obstinately.
“Oh, give me a square meal once in a while, and a night’s rest here and there, and I’ll do well enough.”
“Oh, dear! I forgot your sleep. Here I’ve been chattering like a magpie. Take off your coat and lie down on that sofa at once.”