girl's heart. But a man can judge a man best, and every instinct of my
nature warned me against this fellow. The very first sound of his voice
had prejudiced me, and when I saw him I knew I was right--with him
manliness was but veneer. And Billie! The name sounded soft, sweet,
womanly now and I longed to speak it in her presence. Billie! I said it
over and over again reverently, her face floating before me in memory,
and then my lips closed in sudden determination: not without a fight, a
hard fight, was this gray-jacket going to retain her, going to keep
her from me.

It was a mad resolve; yet it was there, in my heart and upon my lips. I
had come upon the field late, come in the wrong uniform, but I was
sufficiently in earnest now. The girl liked me, served me, and she
interested me as no other ever had. Her very moods, piquant, reserved,
aroused my ambition, stimulated my purpose, and Le Gaire--the very
thought of him was a thorn in the flesh. I have wondered since if I
really loved her then; I do not know, but I dreamed of her, idealized
her, my heart throbbing at every unusual sound without, hoping she might
come again. I could hear the noise of the cavalry camp on the lawn, and
the tramp of feet in the hall. Occasionally some voice sounded clear
enough so I could distinguish the words. I opened the door leading into
the dining-room, but that apartment was deserted. There was evidently
nothing to do but wait, and I lay down on the couch between the windows,
looking up at the green leaves shaking in the breeze. Fatigued with the
labors of the previous night, before I realized the possibility I was
fast asleep.

I must have remained there some hours, totally unconscious, for when I
finally awoke it was nearly dark, the dusk so pronounced I could
scarcely see across the room. Some noise without had aroused me, and I