“_My_ whim,” she reminded him. “Yes; I suppose it was,” he admitted thoughtfully. “When I saw you crying, I lost my head, and acted like a child.” “Then it was all my fault?” “Oh, I don’t say that. Certainly not. I’m master of my own actions. If I hadn’t wanted—” “But it was my fault this much, anyway, that you wouldn’t have done it except for me.” “Yes; it was your fault to that extent,” he said honestly. “I hope you don’t mind my saying so.” “Oh, beetle man, beetle man!” She leaned forward, her eyes deep-lit pools of mirth and mockery and some more occult feeling that he could not interpret. “Would it scare you quite out of your poor, queer wits if I were to _hug_ you? Don’t call for help. I’m not really going to do it.” “I know you’re not,” said he dolefully. “But about that row, I want to set myself right. I’m no fool. I know it took a certain amount of nerve to go down there. And I was even proud of it, in a way. And when Von Plaanden turned and gave me the salute before he went away, I liked it quite a good deal.” “Did he do that? I love him for it!” cried the girl. “But my point is this, that what I did wasn’t sound common sense. Now if Carroll had done it, it would have been all right.” “Why for him and not for you?” “Because those are his principles. They’re not mine.” “I wish you weren’t quite so contemptuous of poor Fitz. It seems hardly fair.” “Contemptuous of him? I’d give half my life to be in his place after to-morrow.” “Why?” There was a flutter in her throat as she put the question. “Because he’s going with you, isn’t he?” “So are you, if you will.” “I can’t.” “Father won’t go without you, I believe. Won’t you come, if I ask you?” “No.” “Work, I suppose,” said the girl; “the work that you love better than anything in the world.” “You’re wrong there.” His voice was not quite steady now. “But it’s work that has to have my first consideration now. And there is one special responsibility that I can’t evade, for the present, anyway.” “And afterward?” She dared not look at him as she spoke. “Ah, afterward. There’s too much ‘perhaps’ in the afterward down here. We science grubbers on the outposts enlist for the term of the war,” he said, smiling wanly. “How can I—can we go and leave you here?” she demanded obstinately. “Oh, give me a square meal once in a while, and a night’s rest here and there, and I’ll do well enough.” “Oh, dear! I forgot your sleep. Here I’ve been chattering like a magpie. Take off your coat and lie down on that sofa at once.” “Where shall I find you when I wake up?” “Right where you leave me when you fall asleep.” “Oh, no! You mustn’t wear yourself out watching over me.” “Hush! You’re under orders. Give me the coat.” She hung it on the back of a chair. “Not another word now. And I’ll call you when time is up.”