But in spite of all Billie would intervene, her blue-gray eyes challenging me to forget, and the remembrance of her making my step light.

I was going to be near her again, at least, if only for an hour; perhaps, whether I succeeded or failed, she would hear my name mentioned.

Even that would be better than forgetfulness, and she was one to appreciate a deed like this.

I should like to see her eyes when they told her--when they spoke my name.

I wondered where Captain Le Gaire was, and whether he had been her escort back through the Confederate lines.