Rudyard Kipling 205 But never a word did Dick say of Maisie or marriage. He hung in the doorway of Torpenhow’s room when the latter was packing and asked innumerable questions about the coming campaign, till Torpenhow began to feel annoyed. “You're a secretive animal, Dickie, and you consume your own smoke, don’t you?” he said on the last evening. “I —I suppose so. By the way, how long do you think this war will last?” “Days, weeks, or months. One can never tell. It may go on for years.” “T wish I were going.” “Good Heavens! You’re the most unaccountable creature! Hasn’t it occurred to you that you're going to be married — thanks to me?” “Of course, yes. I’m going to be married — so I am. Going to be married. I’m awfully grateful to you. Haven’t I told you that?” “You might be going to be hanged by the look of you,” said Torpenhow. And the next day Torpenhow bade him good-bye and left him to the loneliness he had so much desired.