'
'Because he isn't fighting?' asked Sir Tito.
'Oh no, Landi! I never thought of that. But you know he always imagines
himself ill, and he's quite all right really. He'll enjoy his grievance.
I _know_ he won't be unhappy. And he's older, and he's not tied to that
silly, mad girl he ran away with. And besides, I'm older. This is
probably _my_ last chance!'
She looked at Landi imploringly, as if begging his permission.
He answered calmly: 'Ecoute, cherie. When do you see him again?'
'I'm to take him for a drive tomorrow.'
'My dear Edith, promise me one thing; don't undertake anything yet.'
'But why not?'
'You mustn't. This may be merely an impulse; you may change again. It
may be a passing mood.'
'I don't think it is,' said Edith. 'Anyhow, it's my wish at present.
It's the result of thinking, remember--not of his persuasion.'
'Go for a drive, but give him no hope yet.' He took both her hands.
'Make no promise, except to me. Don't I know you well? I doubt if you
could do it.'
'Yes, I could! I could go through _anything_ if I were determined, and
if I had the children safe.'
'Never mind that for the present. Live for the day.
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