The
war is the only place--"
"Oh, Barry," she said, her eyes bright with tears, "how unkindly, how
terribly you talk." Then with a swift change of mood she turned upon
him. "What right have you to talk like that?" she cried in sudden wrath.
"What have I done--what have we done to you?"
"Wait, Phyllis," he cried desperately. "Oh, let them go on," he added
impatiently. "For Heaven's sake, is there no place about here where I
can talk to you?" They were both pale and trembling. "I must talk to you
to-night--now--at once." He stood between her and the door. "Can't
you see I love you? I love you, do you hear? If you don't love me, why
should I live?"
"Oh, Barry," said the girl, in a hurried voice. "You must not talk like
this. Come this way. I know this place." She hurried out by a side door,
down a corridor, and into a small parlour, with cosy corners, where they
were alone.
"Now, Phyllis," said Barry, facing her, with a settled fierceness in
his voice and manner. "I am quite mad, I know, to love you, but I do.
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