The unhappy lieutenant hid his face in heavy clouds of tobacco smoke.

"Well," said he, springing to his feet, and pacing the floor like a
caged animal, "I'll tell you what I'll do; I'll write her, and throw my
heart at her feet. Of course she won't care. It's just as you say. Why
should she? But I'll do it, and then I'll go back to the regiment. I
hate to spoil _your_ fun, major, if it's any fun to you to have such a
fool in your quarters; but the fact is, the enemy's too much for me. I
wouldn't feel worse if I was facing a division. I'll write her to
morrow. I'd rather be refused by her than loved by any other woman."

"Put it off a fortnight, Fred," suggested the major; "it's the polite
thing to call within a week after this party; you'll have a chance then
to become better acquainted with her. She's delightful company, I'm
told. Perhaps you'll make up your mind it's better to enjoy her society,
during our leave, than to throw away everything in a forlorn hope. Wait
a fortnight, that's a sensible youth."

"I can't, major!" cried the excited boy. "Hang it! you're an old
soldier--don't you know how infernally uncomfortable it is to stand
still and be shot at?"

"I _do_, my boy," said the major, with considerable emphasis, and a
far-away look at nothing in particular.

"Well, that'll be my fix as long as I stay here and keep quiet," replied
the lieutenant.

"Wait a week, then," persisted the major. "You don't want to be 'guilty