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No, I barely remembered the rider had generously moved aside to let me go by. In pure sourness at the poverty of my dress and the perfection of his, I had avoided looking at him higher than his hundred-dollar boots. My feet were in uncolored cowhide, except the toes.

"Yes, a beautiful story is a thing Ned Ferry loves with a positive passion."

"I've been awake for forty-eight hours, Major. But--oh, I'm not sleepy."

One o'clock. Miss Harper suggested a halt to feed the horses. I, knowing what it would cost me to dismount and go walking about, said no, thrice no; let us first get back upon the main road in front of that battery. On, therefore, we hurried, and soon the reality of the war was vivid to us again. In a stretch of wet road where the team had mutely begged leave to walk and the ladies had urged me to sing we had at length paused in a pebbly rivulet to allow the weary animals to drink, and the girls and the aunt and the greenwood and I were all in chorus bidding somebody

"Those? That one is the Virgin's sheaf; and those two are the Balances."

"Hmm; Charlotte Oliver. Are you sure you have the name just right?"

"Two--what?" His smile broadened. "You know that?"

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