"Surely, my dear, you must see. He was no better than other men. The ideal you have conjured up is no ideal. He was a brave soldier, a darned brave soldier, and—until we both fell in love with you—my pal. But it is not fair that his memory should absorb you. It's—it's unnatural."
"I suppose you think I should be indignant?" There was no emotion of any kind in her voice.
"I simply want you to see that your idol has feet of clay," he said, with the stubbornness of a man who feels he is losing.
"What has that to do with it? You know I loved him."
"Other girls have loved——" he said bitterly.
"And forgotten? Yes, I know," she interrupted him. "But I do not forget, that is all."
"But after what I have told you. Surely——"
"You see I knew," she said, even more quietly than before.
"You—knew?"
"Yes. It was I who was with him. It was his last leave," she added thoughtfully.