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I failed to catch her reply. She spoke in a tone of pain and sunk her face in her hand. "Head ache?" I asked. "No." She straightened, and from under her coquettish hat bent upon me such a look as I had never seen. In her eyes, in her tightened lips, and in the lift of her head, was a whole history of hope, pride, pain, resolve, strife, bafflement and defiance. She could not have chosen to betray so much; she must have counted too fully on the shade of her hat-brim. The beautiful frown relaxed into a smile. "No," she repeated, "only an aching conscience. Ever have one?"

I averted my face and answered with a nod.

"Yes," I said, and handed her, as I dismounted, the General's gift, the pass.

"Why haven't I got it right?"

"Since the hour of her marriage she has never gone into her chamber without locking the door; she has never come out of it unarmed."

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