Once he awoke from revery to listen to the call of the guards, as it echoed from post to post, ceasing with "All well, Number Nine," far out beyond the stables.
The familiar sound served to recall him to the reality of his position.
What was the use?
What business had he to dream?
For months now he had kept that girl's face before him, in memory of a few hours of happiness when he had looked into her dark eyes and heard her pleasant speech.

Yet from the first he had known the foolishness of it all.

He was nothing to her, and could never become anything.

Even if he cleared his past record and stepped out of the ranks into his old social position, the chances were she would never overlook what he had been.

Her gratitude meant little, nor her passing interest in his army career.