"You have to fight, I feel that; only
you can do it. You have to fight this--this--" and here the doctor's
loyalty spoke, for he could not betray even this new Valentine,--"this
strange madness of Valentine's. Pit your will against his, and conquer
for Julian's sake."
"Will," said Cuckoo. "That's what he says I can't have."
"Won't you pray to have it given you?" said the little doctor.
Cuckoo looked at him, wondering. Then she said:
"I believe I could fight better 'n pray."
"Sometimes battle is the greatest of all prayers," said the doctor.
The iron gate clicked. He was gone. Cuckoo cast an oblique glance up
at the stars before she shut the door, and retraced her steps down the
passage.
CHAPTER VII
BATTLE ARRAY
When Julian left the Marylebone Road that night it was nearly ten
o'clock. He was quite sober, and looked preternaturally grave as he
opened the little gate and stepped out into the frost-bound street.
In the lighted aperture of the doorway behind him Cuckoo stood like
a shadow half revealed peeping after him, and he turned and waved his
hand to her. Then he walked away slowly, meditating. That night the
fight for the possession of his will, his soul, had begun in deadly
earnest.
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