He continued--'We kids
liked him awfully. Well, I saw him! I actually did. He stood
there--by you. He was talking a lot--I didn't understand--but--'
A sudden movement. Aubrey fell on his knees beside the bed. His deep
haggard eyes stared at his brother. There was in them an anguish, an
eagerness, scarcely human.
'Desmond!--can't you remember?'
The words were just breathed--panted.
Desmond, whose eyes had closed again, smiled faintly.
'Why, of course I can't remember. He had his hand on your shoulder.
I just thought he was cheering you up--about something.'
'Desmond!--it was I that killed him--I could have saved him!'
The boy opened his eyes. His startled look expressed the question he
had not strength to put.
Aubrey bent over the bed, speaking hurriedly--under possession. 'It
was at Neuve Chapelle. I had gone back for help--he and ten or
twelve others who had moved on too fast were waiting in a bit of
shelter till I could get some more men from the Colonel. The Germans
were coming on thick.
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