Part 6 (1/2)

”Don't go! Don't go! I can't bear it! O Leonard!”

His hand, disengaging itself from her fingers, increased her panic. He put his arm about her.

”Marjie,” he said, in a steady voice, which yet sounded unreal, not like his own, ”I'm going. Good-bye. I love you with my whole soul; I always will. I shan't be able to hear from you, but I'll write you as often as I can. Don't worry if there are long intervals between letters. And, Marjie, don't believe too easily that I'm dead. If you hear I'm missing, there is still a good chance; even if I'm on the lists, keep on hoping.

I'm coming back. Good-bye.” He kissed her, then paused, and put his dark head close to hers. ”Marjie, if we should have one,--if it's a boy,--I want it brought up in England; and in case we should--promise me to take the best care of yourself--promise! That's right. Now stop trembling.”

Marjorie nodded, with white lips, but continued to tremble. Leonard's face became equally white. He set his quivering mouth and turned away, but Marjorie clutched wildly at his sleeve.

”I'm coming with you as far as the boat, Leonard, just as far as the boat. See, those women are going. Oh, let me, Leonard!”

He hesitated, and in that empty moment a voice behind them said, ”The average life of an officer in the Dardanelles is eleven days.”

Leonard frowned; then glared at the hunchback, who was still peering at them.

”O Leonard, please, _please_!”

”You couldn't come back with them,” he said painfully, averting his eyes from hers.

”Eleven days!” repeated an incredulous voice.

”I _will_ come--I _will_ come!” gasped Marjorie, trying to squeeze past Leonard through the gates.

He pushed her back peremptorily. His boyish face was pitiful in its determination.

”You go back,” he said. He beckoned to a young officer who was standing in the crowd. ”Stuart,” he said, ”will you see my wife to her carriage?

She doesn't feel well. I'm going.”