A Woman's War. Warwick Deeping

regret nothing, dear?”

      “Regret!”

      “It is always in my mind—this curse. I am not a coward, Kate, but I go in deadly fear at times of my own flesh.”

      “Always—this!”

      “Would to God I could bear it all myself.”

      “Come,” and she hung over him; “I understand, I am not afraid. You must rest; we will go away together to the cottage—a little honeymoon. You are not yourself as yet. Oh, my beloved, I want you here, here—at my heart!”

      Darkness enveloped them, and she pillowed her husband’s head upon her shoulder. He heard her heart beating, heard the drawing of her breath. In a little while he fell asleep, but Catherine lay awake for many hours, her love hovering like some sacred flame of fire over the tired man at her side.