He opened the book obediently, but turned the pages at random.
She watched him for a moment, and then bent a little forward towards him.
"It is my turn now," she said suddenly. "Is anything wrong?
He raised his head, and their eyes met. There was a pause. "I will be more honest than you," he returned. "Yes, there is."
"What?"
"I've had orders to move on.
She drew back, and her lips whitened, though she kept them steady.
"When do you go?
"On Wednesday."
There was silence again; the man still kept his eyes on her face.
The whirring of the insects and the creaking of the wheel had suddenly grown so strangely loud and insistent, that it was in a half-dazed fashion she at length heard her name—"Kathleen!"
"Kathleen!" he whispered again hoarsely.
She looked him full in the face, and once more their eyes met in a long grave gaze.
The man's face flushed, and he half rose from his seat with an impetuous movement, but Kathleen stopped him with a glance.
"Will you go and fetch my work? I left it in the tent," she said, speaking very clearly and distinctly; "and then will you go on reading? I will find the place while you are gone."
She took the book from his hand, and he rose and stood before her.
There was a mute appeal in his silence, and she raised her head slowly.
Her face was white to the lips, but she looked at him unflinchingly; and without a word he turned and left her.
