end of this chimerical crusade could be reached. And yet he was powerless to hold her back. He knew that in her present condition of mind neither argument nor entreaty would be of any avail. She must be permitted to go her way unchecked until the day of final disillusionment. He prayed that that day might speedily come, with only a modicum of disaster.
"We'll not quarrel about it now, dear," he said. "It will be a good many days before I shall see you again, and we must part, to-night, as lovers."
Holding his hands she looked up into his face with moist eyes.
"If I could only have you with me in the fight," she murmured; "you would make such a splendid comrade."
He did not reply at once. The similarity of her expression with that used by the rector earlier in the evening struck in upon him ominously.
"You will have me," he said at last, "to rescue you, and bind up your wounds when the battle goes against you."
"And are you not afraid that you will be giving aid and comfort to the enemy?"
"Oh, no! I will simply be taking the part of the Good Samaritan."
He had drawn her into his arms, and, though clouds and darkness obscured the future, there could be no doubt that, to-night at least, they were still lovers.
