s damned fool friends. I have learned to regard you highly
because you are a brave man and an honest one, but it seems that you
are a sentimental idiot."

"Dem is tough word," Doret replied. "But dere's reason w'y I can't tak'
on no madnesse. You say I'm hones'. Wal, I'm hones' now, an' I come to
you wit' fair words an' I show my han' to you--I don' hoi' out no
cards, M'sieu'--but I don' t'ink it is you who have play square,
altogeder. I'm Necia's frien', an' I'll fight for her jus' so queecker
lak' you, but I mus' know dis t'ing for sure, so if you have de good
heart an' de courage of good man you'll tell me de truth. Do you have
the feelin' for marry on her?"

The pause that followed was awkward for both of them, while the girl,
who stood concealed near by, held her breath and buried her nails in
her palms. Why did he hesitate? Would he never speak? It seemed not,
for he swung between diverse emotions--anger that this outsider should
question him on so intimate a matter, chagrin at the knowledge of
having injured Necia, and rage, blind rage, at the thought of its
becoming a bar-room topic. Gradually the conviction grew that it was
not a question of idle curiosity with Doret, and the man's history
recurred to him. No wonder he was interested in the girl, no wonder he
wished to guard her; he had been a brother indeed, even as he said, and
he could have no motive save an honorable one. It never occurred to the
soldier that this Frenchman could harbor feelings akin to his own. The
man was rough and foreign; his thoughts had been couched in harsher
language, perhaps, than he intended; moreover, the fellow's high sense
of honor was a byword--and of a sudden the desire to set himself right
in this man's eyes dictated his answer.

"I am amazed at myself for listening to you," he said, at last, "and
quite shocked, in fact, at my answering your questions, but perhaps I'd
better, after all. First, however, let me say that the little girl is
just as pure now as she was before she knew me--"

Poleon threw up his hand. "M'sieu', dat's more closer to de insult dan
w'at you call me jus' now. You don' need for spoke it."

"You're right! There's no need to tell you that. As for showing her
certain attentions--well, I admit that I have, as you know, but, thank
God, I can say I've been a gentleman and addressed her as I would the
fairest lady I've known."

"An' you mean for marry, eh?" probed the other.

Now, no man could have an