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"Oh, I--I wish he wouldn't play cards. Smith, I've seen him play cards with the shells bursting over us!"

"We've got a letter for you from her!" exclaimed Camille.

"Smith," said the Colonel, and then smoked and smiled again till my brow beaded,--"tired?"

I stiffened proudly, turned and mounted my steed, but her eyes drew mine. I pressed close, bent over the saddle-bow, and said, "Good-bye, Camille."

I had not the faintest doubt she was lying. What was I to her? The times were fearfully out of joint; women as well as men were taking war's licenses, and with a boy's unmerciful directness I sprang to the conclusion that here was an adventuress. Yet I had some better thoughts too. While I felt a moral tipsiness going into all my veins, I asked myself if it was not mainly due to my own inability to rise in full manliness to a most exceptional situation. Her jaunty method of confronting it, was I not failing to regard that with due magnanimity? Was this the truth, or after all ought I really to see that at every turn of her speech, by coy bendings of the head, by the dark seductions of dim half-captive locks about her oval temples, and by many an indescribable swaying of the form and of the voice, I was being--to speak it brutally--challenged? Even in the poetic obscurity of the night I lost all steadiness of eye as I pertly said--

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

"Never mind, we must have a long talk. At present there is a verbal message for me; what is it?"

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