"I want you to go to the War Office," she said. "If Jim's wounded, or ... or anything, they'll send a telegram to me. I want you to arrange to have it sent to you. For the next six weeks I'm simply going to vegetate. I shall write to Jim, of course, and if he writes to me I shall read his letters. If he doesn't, I shall try not to worry." She slipped her arm through mine. "You see, George, it's everything in the world to me now. And to poor dear old Jim. I'm doing it for his sake, too. It's all I can do. So if anything does happen ..."
"Isn't the Dowager the right person to take this on?" I suggested. "She is his mother."
Violet shook her head.
"She'd tell me. Not in so many words, but I should see it. And the same way with Amy. Say you will, George."
"I will, by all means."
"Good boy! You'd better not come again for the present. If you walked in one evening with a long face.... Amy'll ring you up as soon as there's anything to report."
"Whatever you think best, my dear."
I kissed her good-night and started to walk down the stairs. She stopped me with a whisper.
"George, I'm ... I'm not a bit afraid!"
"Best of luck!" I said. "Good night!"