At sight of his wan features, she forgot the urgency of her need for a moment, and fell to her knees at his bedside, placing her hands on his slack ones where they lay on the soiled coverlet. "Shall I never see that sweet face again,—never feel the pressure of those kind hands more—nor listen to that gentle voice! Ah! yes, we shall meet again in Heaven, where I shall speedily join you. The question ceased to be a tea-table talk, and became suddenly tragically real for Ann Veronica. There was no sense in creating further difficulties for herself by arguing with the sergeant over her identity.
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