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 life, little sister. There’s so much hideousness in this war—I’ve got to go and help wipe it out of the world. I’m going to fight for the beauty of life, Rilla-my-Rilla—that is my duty. There may be a higher duty, perhaps—but that is mine. I owe life and Canada that, and I’ve got to pay it. Rilla, tonight for the first time since Jem left I’ve got back my self-respect. I could write poetry,” Walter laughed. “I’ve never been able to write a line since last August. Tonight I’m full of it. Little sister, be brave—you were so plucky when Jem went.”

“This—is—different,” Rilla had to stop after every word to fight down a wild outburst of sobs. “I loved—Jem—of course—but—when—he went—away—we thought—the war— would soon—be over—and you are—everything to me, Walter.”

“You must be brave to help me, Rilla-my-Rilla. I’m exalted tonight—drunk with the excitement of victory over myself—but there will be other times when it won't be like this—I'll need your help then.”

“When—do—you—go?” She must know the worst at once.

“Not for a week—then we go to Kingsport for training. I suppose we’ll go overseas about the middle of July—we don’t know.”

One week—only one week more with Walter! The eyes of youth did not see how she was to go on living.

When they turned in at the Ingleside gate Walter stopped in the shadows of the old pines and drew Rilla close to him.

“Rilla-my-Rilla, there were girls as sweet and pure as you in Belgium and Flanders. You—even you—