“I don't think I care for this life,” she said fretfully. “Death is always about you everywhere, and a girl can never go out to enjoy herself but——”
“It is true woman's work,” said John hotly, “the truest, noblest work a woman can have in all the world!”
“Perhaps,” said Glory, swinging on her heel. “All the same——”
“Good-night!” said John, and he turned on his heel also.
She looked after him and laughed. Then with a little hard lump at her heart she took herself off to bed.
Polly Love, in the next cubicle, was humming as she undressed:
Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more,
Men were deceivers ever.
That night Glory dreamed that she was back at Peel. She was sitting up on the Peel hill, watching the big ships as they weighed anchor in the bay beyond the old dead castle walls, and wishing she were going out with them to the sea and the great cities so far away.