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'I wonder why you say that--I wonder what I've done!'
'Oh, you've done nothing!' cried Beryl. 'It's only I
feel--sometimes--that--that you don't let me know things--share
things. You seem sometimes so sad--and I can't be any help--you
won't let me! That's what I mind so much--so dreadfully!'
He was silent a moment. Then without any attempt at caresses, he
said, 'I wonder, Beryl, whether you--whether you--ever realize--what
we soldiers have _seen_? No!--thank God!--you don't--you can't.'
She pressed her hands to her eyes, and shuddered.
'No, of course I can't--of course I can't!' she said passionately.
Then, while her eyes were still hidden, there passed through
his worn features a sharp spasm, as of some uncontrollable
anguish--passed and was gone.
He turned towards her, and she looked up. If ever love, all-giving,
self-forgetting, was written on a girl's face, it was written on
Beryl's then. Her wild-rose colour came and went; her eyes were full
of tears. She had honestly made her attempt, but she could not carry
it through, and he saw it.


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