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We listened again. "They've gone the wrong way," I said, still savage.

She struck a mock-sentimental attitude and murmured musically--

I dilated. "Who told--did Ned Ferry tell you that story?"

"They were neither of them present, Lieutenant; that hand was Miss Coralie Rothvelt's."

"Only into her service," I said, but he raised his brows. "That is more; certainly you are honored. What is it you would rather not tell the General and yet you must; do I know that already?"

We rode in silence while I tried to think what it must be to a woman of her warmth--of her impulsive energies--to be, week in, week out, month after month, besieged by that man's law-protected blandishments and stratagems. "I wish you would use me in her service every time there is a chance," I said.

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