When he had finished, she asked, "The French Army honored you, why not the American ?" "It was never reported." "How strange! Who was your officer ?" "You'll laugh when you hear," he replied, without hint of laugh himself.

"Heavens, how things come about! My officer was from Middleville." "Daren! Who ?" she asked, quickly, her eyes darkening with thought.
"Captain Vane Thesel." How singular to Lane the fact she did not laugh! She only stared.

Then it seemed part of her warmth and glow, her subtle response to his emotion, slowly receded.

He felt what he could not see.
"Oh! He.

Vane Thesel," she said, without wonder or surprise or displeasure, or any expression Lane anticipated.
Her strange detachment stirred a hideous thought--could Thesel have been....