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But, no; he wasn't jealous

"And now," he went on, "you o hoot to tell him, Charlotte"

She stood up, ready "Where is he?"

"By hi at his little table He had been trying to write a letter, but he had pushed it from him and left it You could see he was absorbed in some bitter meditation She seated herself at the head of his bed, on his pillohere she could look down at hio on like this--"

"Like what?"

He held his head high; but the excited, happy light had gone out of his eyes; they stared, not as though they saw anything, but withdrawn, as though he were conte the fearful memory of his fear

And she was sorry for him, so sorry that she couldn't bear it She bit her lip lest she should sob out with pain

"Oh--" she said, and her pain stopped her

"I don't knohat you're talking about--'going on like this' I'h If I were you I should go home You know you can't stand it"

"What? Go and leave my cars to Sutton?"

"McClane could take thened on for the duration of the war"