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"Has he a taste for fiction?" I asked, with a depreciative smirk.

The young man laughed and turned to go. "Why doesn't Ned Ferry make her let Gholson alone? He can do it; he's got her round his finger as tight as she's got Gholson round hers."

There was a hush of attention among them as the lieutenant and I saluted. His left hand was gone at the wrist and the sleeve pinned back on itself. He asked my name; I told him. In the car there was a stir of deepening interest. I inquired if he was the post-quartermaster here. He was.

"What do you see?" His frown scared me to my finger-tips.

"He told you?--Ah! you're only guessing," I said, and saw that I was helping her to guess more correctly.

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