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I passed on, flattered but scandalized, wasting no guesses on how she knew me--if she really knew me at all--but taking my revenge by moralizing on her, to myself, as a sign of the times, until brigade headquarters were in full view, a few rods off the road; four or five good, white wall-tents in a green bit of old field backed by a thicket of young pines.

"Well, that might depend on who 'her' is." We had reached the cross-roads and he was turning south.

"Nonsense!" muttered both men, and I liked them the better.

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