For whatever unknown reason, the girl's quick wit had saved me from capture; I owed her every loyalty, and I had pledged her my word.

That was enough.

The more I turned the circumstances over in my mind the less I seemed to comprehend her motives, yet there could be no doubt she sought to serve me.

A word from her to Le Gaire, or to Beauregard, would have ended my career instantly.

Instead of speaking this word of betrayal she had deliberately placed herself in my defence, deceiving her own people.
Why?
Was there more than a mere impulse behind the action?
Was she doing for me more than she would have done for another under similar circumstances?
Was this act merely the result of womanly sympathy?
For the life of me I could not determine.