WAR
if you were Dave, remembering what you know and he doesn't?"
Well, that kind of gets me. I really hadn't thought about it that way.
"We said the other day that we would do it," Evelyn goes on, "when we were all happy and thoughtless. But—we all know that Dave must—understand."
I said nothing. I couldn't. And I suppose that hurt Evelyn's feelings a little.
"Tell him very gently and sweetly," she says then, "that it can not be yet. Say that I am too ill."
And, after a while:
"Perhaps you had better tell him—all. It will have to be done—some time. I mustn't let him marry me under false pretenses."
But I couldn't make up my mind to cause all that unhappiness—just yet. I waited, hoping that something would happen to make it unnecessary. And Evelyn slowly got her courage back—but not like the night she was shot. She never got that back.
