uoy her above the grief over the deep wound he had dealt her.
She never doubted that his insolence and deliberate brutality had
killed in her the last lingering spark of compassion for the memory
of the man who had held her in his arms that night so long--so long
ago.

Never, even, had she spoken to Letty about him, or betrayed any
interest or curiosity concerning Letty's knowing him. . . . Not
that, at moments, the desire to ask, to know had not burned her.

Never had she spoken of Berkley to Hallam. Not that she did not
care to know what this private in Colonel Arran's regiment of
lancers might be about. And often and often the desire to know
left her too restless to endure her bed; and many a night she rose
and dressed and wandered about the place under the yellow stars.

But all fires burn themselves: to extinction; a dull endurance,
which she believed had at last become a God-sent indifference,
settled on her mind. Duties helped her to endure; pride, anger,
helped her toward the final apathy which she so hopefully desired
to attain. And still she had never yet told Celia about Hallam and
his ring; never told her about Berkley and his visit to the Farm
Hospital that Christmas Eve of bitter memory.

So when, unexpectedly, Hallam rode into the court, dismounted, and
sent word that he was awaiting Ailsa in Dr. West's office, she
looked up at Celia in guilty consternation.

They had been seated in Celia's room, mending by candle-light, and
the steward who brought the message was awaiting Ailsa's response,
and Celia's lifted eyes grew curious as she watched her
sister-in-law's flushed face.

"Say to Captain Hallam that I will come down, Flannery."

And when the hospital steward had gone:

"Captain Hallam is a friend of Colonel Arran, Celia."

"Oh," said Celia drily, and resumed her mending.

"Would you care to meet him, dear?"

"I reckon not, Honey-bud."

A soldier had found a spray of white jasmine in the woods that
afternoon and had brought it to Ailsa. She fastened a cluster in
the dull gold masses of her hair, thickly drooping above each ear,
glanced at her hot cheeks in the mirror, and, exasperated, went out
and down the stairs.

And suddenly, there in the star-lit court, she saw Berkley leaning
against one of the horses, and Letty Lynden standing beside him,
her pretty face uplifted to his.

The shock of it made her falter. Dismayed, she shrank back,
closing the door noiselessly. For a mo