d
hands--narrow hands, smooth as a child's, now wearily coiling up the
lustrous braids which sagged to her shoulders under the felt riding
hat. And all the while, from beneath level brows, her dark, distrait
eyes were wandering from the signal officer to the sleeping major of
artillery, to the aide snoring on the sofa, to the trumpet vines hanging
motionless outside the open window. But all she really saw was Captain
West.

He appeared somewhat young and thin, his blond hair and mustache were
burned hay-color. He was adjusting eyeglasses to a narrow, well-cut
nose; under a scanty mustache his mouth had fallen into pleasant lines,
the nearsighted eyes, now regarding her normally from behind the
glasses, seemed clear, unusually pleasant, even a trifle mischievous.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" he asked respectfully.

"After the general is awake--if I might have the use of a room--and a
little fresh water--" Speech died in her throat; some of the color died
in her face, too.

"Did you wish me to awake him now? If your business is urgent I will,"
said Captain West.

She did not reply; an imperceptible twitching tightened her lips; then
the young mouth relaxed, drooping a trifle at the corners. Lying there,
so outwardly calm, her tired, faraway gaze fixed absently on him, she
seemed on the verge of slumber.

"If your business is urgent," he was repeating pleasantly. But she made
no answer.

Urgent? No, not now. It had been urgent a second or two ago. But not
now. There was time--time to lie there looking at him, time to try to
realize such things as triumph, accomplishment, the excitement of
achievement; time to relax from the long, long strain and lie nerveless,
without strength, yielding languidly to the reaction from a task well
done.

So this was success? A pitiful curiosity made her eyes wistful for an
instant. Success? It had not come as she expected.

Was her long quest over? Was this the finish? Had all ended here--here
at headquarters, whither she had returned to take up, patiently, the
lost trail once more?

Her dark gaze rested on this man dreamily; but her heart, after its
first painful bound of astonishment, was beating now with heavy,
sickened intelligence. The triumph had come too suddenly.

"Are you hungry?" he asked.

She was not hungry. There was a bucket of water and a soldier's tin cup
on the window sill; and, forestalling him instinctively, she reached
over, plunged the cup into