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"Such as which?" asked the Yankee, with a twinkle. "There were two kinds."

My whole nature was upheaved. You may smile, but my plight was awful. In the sultry night I grew cold. My bridle-hand, still lying under her palm, turned and folded its big stupid fingers over hers. Then our hands slid apart and we rode back. "I wish I were good enough to know the stars," she said, gazing up. "Tell me some of them."

Was all the sound we heard.'

"Is it so dangerous?"

"My God! she shall not!" I cried, and whirled about and galloped back.

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

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