"Perhaps."
The door to General Crandall's room opened. They sprang apart just as Crandall and Bishop entered the library. The former was not blind to the situation; he darted a swift glance into the girl's face and read much there.
"Ready, Captain?" Bishop chirped, affecting not to notice the momentary confusion of the man and the girl.
Woodhouse gave Jane's hand a lingering clasp; mutely his eyes adjured her to remember her plighted troth. In another minute he was gone.
The general and his guest were alone. Jane Gerson was bidding him good night when he interrupted, somewhat gruffly:
"Well, young woman, have you made up your mind? Do you sail in the morning—or not?"
"I made up my mind to that long ago," she answered briskly. "Of course I sail."
"Then you're going to tell me what I want to know. Sensible girl!" He rubbed his hands in satisfaction.
"What is it you want to know, General Crandall?" This almost carelessly from her.
