Jack read the letter, but there was nothing in it which seemed strange; certainly nothing impossible to her point of view. Bryan had simply requested that Frank allow her to come to him in case he was seriously injured. Bryan explained simply and boyishly that he had no women in his own family and that she was his closest woman friend. He had an absurd horror of dying with no woman near for whom he cared, or who cared for him. "I don't see what you find impossible, Frank," Jack answered, placing the letter inside the envelope and quickly returning it. "I was only waiting until we heard more news to ask you to let me go to Bryan, even if he had not made this request of us." Frank appeared distressed, but shook his head resolutely. "I don't want to seem unkind, dear. In a way it is pretty hard to refuse what Bryan asks. Only he could not have appreciated just how much he was asking." Jack brushed her hair back from her forehead with a puzzled gesture. "I don't understand what you mean, Frank. Certainly neither of us can dream of not agreeing. I know you will worry over the discomfort, perhaps even the danger of the trip to France for me. But hundreds of women have gone and are going every day to care for the soldiers who are entire strangers to them. Many times I have wanted to go myself before this, except for leaving you and my babies behind. But now I may only need to stay a little time." "We won't discuss the matter any further please, Jack," Frank protested, speaking gently, but with a decision which Jack recognized as having a serious intention back of it. Instantly she went to him and put her hands on his shoulders, looking directly into his blue eyes with her clear, wide grey ones. "Tell me your reason please, Frank. This isn't like you. You can't mean to be so selfish--even so cruel." Frank's eyes held his wife's, but he showed no sign, either of flinching or yielding. "I am sorry to have to say this to you, dear. I wish you could have been willing to do what I asked, without demanding my reason. But I can't let my wife go to Bryan; I can't let people think you and he care this much for each other. People would talk--there would be gossip. I am your husband and it is my place to safeguard you. You and Bryan never think of consequences--you are only impetuous children." "So you mean--" Jack let her hands drop slowly from her husband's shoulders to her own sides, "you mean, that because of a little idle chatter--foolish, unkind gossip--oh, I know some of the neighbors have already talked of Bryan and me before this--you would keep me from the friend we both care so much for, at a time like this? I can't believe it of you, Frank." "Then I am sorry to disappoint you, because I do mean it, Jack, dear. I suppose it does seem narrow and worldly to you, with your wider ideas of freedom and loyalty. But hard as this may be for us both, you must abide by my decision."