He stared at
Durrance and saw the hope stricken. Durrance looked the man of courage
which his record proved him to be, and Lieutenant Sutch had his theory
of women. "Brute courage--they make a god of it."
"Well?" asked Durrance.
Lieutenant Sutch was aware that he must answer. He was sorely tempted to
lie. For he knew enough of the man who questioned him to be certain that
the lie would have its effect. Durrance would go back to the Soudan, and
leave his suit unpressed.
"Well?"
Sutch looked up at the sky and down upon the flags. Harry had foreseen
that this complication was likely to occur, he had not wished that Ethne
should wait. Sutch imagined him at this very moment, lost somewhere
under the burning sun, and compared that picture with the one before his
eyes--the successful soldier taking his ease at his club. He felt
inclined to break his promise, to tell the whole truth, to answer both
the questions which Durrance had first asked. And again the pitiless
monosyllable demanded his reply.
"Well?"
"No," said Sutch, regretfully. "There would be no disloyalty."
And on that evening Durrance took the train for Holyhead.
CHAPTER IX
AT GLENALLA
The farm-house stood a mile above the village, in a wild moorland
country.
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