“Doesn’t it make you happy? Why not? We shan’t be poor. I have about six hundred a year, I wrote and asked. It’s not much, but it’s enough, isn’t it?”

“It’s riches to me.”

“Oh, how lovely it will be!”

“But I ought to get divorced, and so ought you, unless we’re going to have complications.”

There was plenty to think about.

Another day she asked him about himself. They were in the hut, and there was a thunderstorm.

“And weren’t you happy when you were a lieutenant and an officer and a gentleman?”

“Happy? All right. I liked my Colonel.”

“Did you love him?”

“Yes! I loved him.”