And yet her beauty was not the thing that stunned him. He had discounted
her good looks from a study of her father's delicate face. It was the
glow of a charming personality that disarmed him at the first glance.

She extended a slender hand with a smile.

"I'm so glad to meet you, Lieutenant Stuart."

He took it awkwardly, and blushed. He mumbled when he spoke and was
conscious that his voice was thick.

"And I'm so glad to see you, Miss Flora."

They had each uttered the most banal greeting. Yet the way in which the
words were spoken was significant.

Never in his life had he heard a voice so gentle, so tender, so
appealing in its sincerity. All desire to flirt, to match wit against a
charming girl vanished. He felt a resistless impulse to protect her
from any fool who would dare try to start a flirtation. She was too
straightforward, too earnest, too sincere. She seemed a part of his own
inmost thought and life.

It was easy to see that while she was the pet of her father, she was
unspoiled. Stuart caught himself at last staring at her in a dazed,
foolish way. He pulled himself together and wondered how long he had
held her hand.

"Won't you play for me, Miss Flora?" he asked at last.

"If you'll sing," she laughed.

"How do you know I sing?"

"How do you know I play?"

"I heard you."

"I heard you, too."

"Upstairs?"

"Just before you came down."

"I had no idea I was so loud."

"Your voice rings. It has carrying power."

He started to say: "I hope you like it," and something inside whispered:
"Behave."

She took the seat at the piano and touched the keys with an easy,
graceful movement. She looked up and smiled. Her eyes blinded him. They
were so bright and friendly.

"What will you sing?"

"_Annie Laurie_," he answered promptly.

Stuart sang with deep tenderness and passion. He outdid himself. And he
knew it. He never knew before that he could sing so well.

On the last stanza the girl softly joined a low, sweet voice with his.
As the final note died away in Stuart's voice, hers lingered a caress.
The man's heart leaped at its tenderness.

"Why didn't you join me at first?" he asked.

"Nobody axed me, sir!" she said.

"Well, I ask you now--come on--we'll do it together!"

"All right," was the jolly answer.

They sang it in duet to the soft accompaniment which she played.

Never had he heard such singing by a slip of a girl. Her voice was rich,
full of feeling and caressin