"It would have made no difference. Her world was centered in him. You know, of course, Doctor, that I wouldn't have spoken of this to anyone else—"
"My dear fellow, I am father confessor to half of my patients." The Doctor's eyes were kind. "My lips will be sealed. But if you want my advice I should throw the old man overboard. Let him sink or swim. Your life is your own."
"It has never been my own." He went to a desk and took out an envelope. "It's a rather sacred letter, but I want you to read it—I read it for the first time last night."
When at last the Doctor laid the letter down, Derry said very low, "Do you blame me?"
"My dear fellow; she had no right to ask it."
"But having asked—?"
"It is a moving letter, and you loved her—but I still contend she had no right to ask."
"I gave my sacred word."
"I question whether any promise should stand between a man and his country's need of him."
They faced each other. "I wonder—" Derry said, "I—I must think it over, Doctor."