He died
when Ramsey was about twelve; but Ramsey remembers him; he was talking
of him a little the night before he enlisted."
Dora made a gesture of despairing protest. "You don't understand!"
"What is it I don't understand?"
"Ramsey! _I_ know why he went--and it's just killing me!"
Fred looked at her gravely. "I don't think you need worry about it," he
said. "There's nothing about his going that you are responsible for."
She repeated her despairing gesture. "You don't understand. But it's no
use. It doesn't help any to try to talk of it, though I thought maybe
it would, somehow." She went a little nearer the dormitory entrance,
leaving him where he was, then turned. "I suppose you won't see him?"
"I don't know. Most probably not till we meet-if we should--in France.
I don't know where he's stationed; and I'm going with the aviation--if
it's ever ready! And he's with the regulars; he'll probably be among the
first to go over."
"I see." She turned sharply away, calling back over her shoulder in a
choked voice. "Thank you.
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