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"Yes, so called. He wa'n't a lieutenant then, he was a clerk, like you or me."

"No," I rejoined, "the first step would be the last."

"Doesn't a good story revive the poetry of our actual lives?" He wiped the rim of his cap with a handkerchief of yellow silk enriched at one corner with needlework.

At the door the Colonel gave me a last look. "Good-night, Legs."

She snatched it gaily, loosed a fastening at her throat and dropped the missive into her bosom. Then with passionate gravity she asked, "Now, are you going straight on to Clifton to-night--without stopping?"

"But if she--oh, yes!--Yes, to be sure; she could easily have got here yesterday afternoon."

"Why, I keep the plain road, don't I?"

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