She disengaged herself gently.
“I must not make you late.”
“You will write to me?”
“If you write.”
“Every hour, beloved, till I come back.”
“Oh, let it be soon.”
“How great is your trust in me. Another than you might have reproached me for going—at such a time.”
She looked at him, her eyes and lips one smile.
“I can guess the reason. I honour you for it. I would not keep you. But oh! it will be long till I see you again.”
“And to me. I am not one of those to whom waiting is easy. But I take away all, all yourself with me.”