“For Heaven's sake,” I cried, “tell me plainly what you mean.”
“We don't quite know what disfigurement will result,” said the nurse bluntly. “It is certain to be very great, and the dread of your seeing her is making her ill and retarding her recovery. So if you have any regard for her, pack up your things and go away.”
“But,” I remonstrated, “I'm bound to see her sooner or later.”
The nurse lost patience. “Ach! Can't you get it into your head that it is essential it should be later, when she is strong enough to stand the strain and has realised the worst and made her little preparations?”
I accepted the rebuke meekly. The situation, when explained, was comprehensible to the meanest masculine intelligence.
“I will go,” said I.
When I announced this determination to Lola she breathed a deep sigh of relief.
“I shall be so much happier,” she said.
Then she raised both her arms and drew my head down until our lips met. “Dear,” she whispered, still holding me, “if I hadn't run away from you before I should run away now; but it would be silly to do it twice. So I'll come to London as soon as the doctor will let me. But if you find you don't and can't possibly love me I shan't feel hurt with you. I've had some months, I know, of your love, and that will last me all my life; and I know that whatever happens you'll be my very dear and devoted friend.”
“I shall be your lover always!” I swore.