es. They had not questioned; they had
served. They had given it all they had.

And that other thing there was to tell her--? Was that, too, something
that would have hurt them? She hoped not. It seemed she could bear the
actual hurt to herself better than thought of the hurt it would have
been to them.

But when the bell rang and she heard his voice asking for her a tumult of
happiness crowded all else out.

She was shyly radiant as she came to him. As he looked at her, it seemed
to pass belief.

But when he dared, and was newly convinced, as, his arms about her he
looked down into her kindling face, his own grew purposeful as well as
happy, more resolute than radiant. "We will make a life together," he
said, as if answering something that had been in his thoughts. "We will
beat it all down."

An hour went by and he had not told the story of his life, life itself
too mysterious, too luring, too beautiful. Whenever they came near to
it they seemed to hold back, as if they would remain as they were
then. Instead, they told each other little things about themselves,
absurd little things, drawing near to each other by all those tender
little paths of suddenly remembered things. And they lingered so, as
if loving it so.

It was when Katie spoke of her brother that he was swept again into the
larger seriousness. Looking into her tender face, his own grew grave.
"You know, Katie--what I told you--what I must tell you--"

"Oh yes," said Katie, "there was something, wasn't there?" But she put
out her hand as if to show there was nothing that could matter. He took
the hand and held it; but he did not grow less grave.

"Katie," he asked, "how much do you really care for the army?"

It startled her, stirring a vague fear in her happy heart.

"Why--I don't know; more than I realize, I presume." She was silent, then
asked: "Why?"

He did not reply; his face had become sober.

"You are thinking," she ventured, "that your feeling for it is going to
be--hard for me?"

He nodded; he was still holding her hand tightly, as if to make sure of
keeping it.

"You see, Katie," he went on, with difficulty, "I have reason for
that feeling."

"What do you mean?" she asked sharply.

"I have tried not to show you that I knew anything--in a personal
way--about the army."

Her breath was coming quickly; her face was strained. But after a moment
she exclaimed: "Why--to be sure--you were in the Spanish War!"

"No," said he with