I TALK WITH JEAN
floor. That she was embarrassed, doubtful, was plainly evident. Suddenly her eyes uplifted to mine.
"Ask me your question, and I will answer."
"Do you love Colonel Donald?"
She drew a quick breath, but there was no faltering in her steadfast gaze.
"I do," she said quietly. "Is that all?"
"That is surely enough," bitterly, "as it leaves me nothing further to hope for."
"Is that not best. Would you wish me to act less frankly?"
There was something in the depths of those gray-blue eyes which I could not fathom; something which seemed to contradict the speech of her lips, and to lure me on in unreasonable hopefulness. Perhaps it was a trace of coquetry in her nature she was unable wholly to restrain. Certainly, I was not insensible to it, nor could I feel, even yet, as one entirely cast aside.
"I accept your word, Miss Denslow," I answered quietly, "because I must, as I am pledged to it, and yet I feel you are not entirely indifferent toward me—that you do care."
Her lips were compressed, her hands clasping and unclasping nervously.
"Have I ever said otherwise?"
"No, but I wish you might feel justified in confessing. You say I am not a prisoner. I am strong enough now to travel, and, after what you have already said, there is no reason for me to delay departure. The demands of war are not likely to throw us together again, yet I wish
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