Tommy winced. "Stella! Great Scott, no! She doesn't care the toss of a
halfpenny for him. I know that now. She only accepted him because she
found herself in such a beastly anomalous position, with all the
spiteful cats of the regiment arrayed against her, treating her like a
pariah."

"Did she tell you so?" There was no irony in Monck's tone this time. It
fell short and stern.

Again Tommy glanced at him as one uncertain. "Not likely," he said.

"Then why do you make the assertion? What grounds have you for making
the assertion?" Monck spoke with insistence as one who meant to have an
answer.

And the boy answered him, albeit shamefacedly. "I really can't say,
Monck. I'm the sort of fool that sees things without being able to
explain how. But that Stella has the faintest spark of real love for
that fellow Dacre,--well, I'd take my dying oath that she hasn't."

"Some women don't go in for that sort of thing," commented Monck dryly.

"Stella isn't that sort of woman." Hotly came Tommy's defence. "You
don't know her. She's a lot deeper than I am."

Monck laughed a little. "Oh, you're deep enough, Tommy. But you're
transparent as well. Now your sister on the other hand is quite
inscrutable. But it is not for us to interfere. She probably knows what
she is doing--very well indeed."