"No, I didn't," he answered. "But you didn't expect me to, did you?"
"The tearlessness of arid skies that never rain?" How strange a phrase! What was this queer book? She read on. "Thus when the muffled rollings of a milky sea; the bleak rustlings of the festooned frosts of mountains; the desolate shiftings of the windrowed snows of prairies; all these, to Ishmael, are as the shaking of that buffalo robe to the frightened colt!"
He stood in the doorway smiling at the two women.
He had a little talk with Mary.
After a dreamless night he awoke to a sudden consciousness that Millie, Clare Westcott and Christina were in his room. He stirred, raising his head very gently and seemed to catch the shadow of Christina's profile in the grey light of the darkened window.
"And what are you doing for yourself?"
"I haven't been good to you. I'm ashamed because these weeks have all gone by and I haven't helped you yet. But you needn't say why do I come and why am I your friend. I love you. I loved you the first moment I saw you in Piccadilly. I've never loved anybody before and I feel now as though I shall never love anybody again. But I will do anything for you, or go anywhere. You only have to say and I will try and do that."
"Now don't you go sighing over him," said Millie. "Make the most of your Major."