"A month to-day!" said Lady Valentine, pausing in her writing (she had just set "Octr. 10th" at the head of her paper) and gazing sorrowfully across the room at Marjory.
Marjory knew well what she meant. The poor woman was counting the days that still lay between her and the departure of her son.
"Now don't, mother," protested Marjory.
"Oh, I know I'm silly. I met Mr. Ruston at the Seminghams' yesterday, and he told me that there wasn't the least danger, and that it was a glorious chance for Walter-just what you said from the first, dear-and that Walter could run over and see me in about eighteen months' time. Oh, but, Marjory, I know it's dangerous!"
Marjory rose and crossed over to where her mother sat.
"You must be a Spartan matron, dear," said she. "You can't keep Walter in leadin
