And it were easier for him, perhaps, if his body died.
He rose and walked to the window. Over the Bay of Shoals the fog was
lifting; and he saw the long gray pier jutting northward--the pier where
the troopships landed their dead and dying when the Spanish war was
ended.
And he looked at the hill where the field hospital had once been. His
brother died there--in the wake of that same duty which no Selwyn could
ignore.
After a moment he turned to Gerald, a smile on his colourless face:
"It will be all right, my boy. You are not to worry--do you understand
me? Go to bed, now; you need the sleep. Go to bed, I tell you--I'll
stand by you. You must begin all over again, Gerald--and so must I; and
so must I."
CHAPTER X
LEX NON SCRIPTA
Selwyn had gone to New York with Gerald, "for a few days," as he
expressed it; but it was now the first week in October, and he had not
yet returned to Silverside.
A brief note to Nina thanking her for having had him at Silverside, and
speaking vaguely of some business matters which might detain him
indefinitely--a briefer note to Eileen regretting his inability to
return for the present--were all the communication they had from him
except news brought by Austin, who came down from town every Friday.
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