It was inglorious.

He tried to frown.
"You poor boy." Suddenly, with an impulse that must have been generous, she rested her hand on his arm.

"I was sorry.

I thought of you so often." At these close quarters, her tremulous voice and searching upward glance meant that she alone understood all his troubles.

He started, turned for some rush of overwhelming speech, when a head popped through the window behind them.
"Boot and saddle, Mrs.Forrester," announced Heywood.