'It's nothing, that's all,' he said laconically.
Albert frowned.
'Then who's going to be murdered?--and who's going to do the
murdering?--me or you--which is it, boy?' He smiled gently at the stupid
youth, looking straight at him all the while, into his eyes. Gradually
the stupid, hunted, glowering look died out of Joe's eyes. He turned his
head aside, gently, as one rousing from a spell.
'I don't want her,' he said, with fierce resentment.
'Then you needn't have her,' said Albert. 'What do you go for, boy?'
But it wasn't as simple as all that. Joe made no remark.
'She's a smart-looking girl. What's wrong with her, my boy? I should have
thought you were a lucky chap, myself.'
'I don't want 'er,' Joe barked, with ferocity and resentment.
'Then tell her so and have done,' said Albert. He waited awhile. There
was no response. 'Why don't you?' he added.
'Because I don't,' confessed Joe, sulkily.
Albert pondered--rubbed his head.
'You're too soft-hearted, that's where it is, boy. You want your mettle
dipping in cold water, to temper it. You're too soft-hearted--'
He laid his arm affectionately across the shoulders of the younger man.
Joe seemed to yield a little towards him.
'When are you going to see her again?' Albert asked. For a long time
there was no answer.
'When is it, boy?' persisted the softened voice of the corporal.
'Tomorrow,' confessed Joe.
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