The meal progressed rather silently.  The Doctor was preoccupied, taciturn.  Miss Emily made futile efforts at conversation.  Jean dallied with her dinner.

“My dear,” the Doctor commented as she pushed away her salad, “you can’t live on love.”

“I’m not hungry.  We had tea at the Club.  Drusilla was there—­and—­we told her.”

“Told her what?”

Blushing furiously, “That Derry and I are going to be—­married.”

“But you are not.  Not for months.  If that cub thinks he can carry you off from under my eyes he is mistaken.  You’ve got to get acquainted with each other—­I have seen too many unhappy marriages.”

“But we are not going to be unhappy, Daddy.”

“How do you know?”

Her cheeks were blazing.  Miss Emily interposed.  “Don’t tease her, she’s too tired.”

“If he is teasing, I don’t care,” Jean said, “but it always sounds as if he meant it.”

After dinner, the Doctor laid his hand on his daughter’s shoulder.  “I want to talk to you, daughter.”

“Is it about Derry, Daddy?”

“About myself.”

Emily, understanding, left them alone.  Jean sat in her low chair in front of the fire, her earnest eyes on her father.  “Well, Daddy.”

He patted her hand.  It was hard for him to speak.

She saw his emotion.  “Is—­is it because I am going to marry Derry?”

“That, and more than that.  Jean, dear, I must go to France—­”

“To France?”

“Yes.  They want me to head a hospital.  I don’t see how I can refuse, and keep my self-respect.  But it means—­leaving you.”

“Leaving me—­”

“My little girl—­don’t look like that.”  He reached out his arms to her.

She came, and clung to him.  “How soon?”

“As soon as I can wind things up here.”

“It—­it seems as if I couldn’t let you.”

“Then you’ll miss me, dearest?”

“You know I will, Daddy.”

“But you will have your Derry.”  His jealousy forced that.

“As if it makes any difference about—­you.”

She hid her face against his coat.  She felt suddenly that the war was assuming a new and very personal aspect.  Of course men had to go.  But she and her father had never been separated—­not for more than a day or week, or a month when she was at the shore.

“How long, Daddy?”

“God knows, dearest.  Until I am not needed.”

“But—­” her lip trembled.

“You are going to be my brave little girl.”

“I’ll try—­” the tears were running down her cheeks.

“You wouldn’t have me not go, would you?”

She shook her head and sobbed on his shoulder.  He soothed her and presently she sat up.  Quite gallantly she agreed that she would stay with Emily.  If he thought she was too young to marry Derry now, she would wait.  If Derry went into it, it might be easier to let him go as a lover than as a husband—­she thought it might be easier.  Yes, she would try to sleep when she went upstairs—­and she would remember that her old Daddy loved her, loved her, and she was to ask God to bless him—­and keep him—­when they were absent one from the other—.