She looked searchingly into her husband's face.

She was very far from indifferent to his altered tone.
"Henry," she said, "that sounds very terrible, but why do you run such risks--unworthily?
Do you think that I couldn't give you all that you want, all that I have to give, if you came home to me with a story like this and I knew that you had been facing death righteously and honourably for your country's sake?
Why, Henry, there isn't a man in the world could have such a welcome as I could give you.

Do you think I am cold?
Of course you don't! Do you think I want to feel as I have done this last fortnight towards you?
Why, it's misery! It makes me feel inclined to commit any folly, any madness, to get rid of it all." Her husband hesitated.

A frown had darkened his face.

He had the air of one who is on the eve of a confession.
"Philippa," he began, "you know that when I go out on these fishing expeditions, I also put in some work at the new chart which I am so anxious to prepare for the fishermen." Philippa shook her head impatiently.
"Don't talk to me about your fishermen, Henry! I'm as sick with them as I am with you.