stairs; and she thrust the
morocco case and the wrapping under the pillows behind her.

She looked up at him in a dazed way when he came in with the tea and
bread. He set the tin tray on her bureau an came over to the bedside.

"Eve," he said, "you look very white and ill. Have you been hurt
somewhere, and haven't you admitted it?"

She seemed unable to speak, and he took both her hands and looked
anxiously into her lovely, pallid features.

After a moment she turned her head and buried her face in the pillow,
trembling now in overwhelming realization of what she had endured for
the sake of two cakes of sugar-milk chocolate hidden under a bush in the
forest.

* * * * *

For a long while the girl lay there, the feverish flush of tears on her
partly hidden face, her nervous hands tremulous, restless, now seeking
his, convulsively, now striving to escape his clasp -- eloquent,
uncertain little hands that seemed to tell so much and yet were telling
him nothing he could understand.

"Eve, dear," he said, "are you in pain? What is it that has happened to
you? I thought you were all right. You seemed all right----"

"I am," she said in a smothered voice. "You'll stay here with me, won't
you?"

"Of course I will. It's just the reaction. It's all over. You're
relaxing. That's all, dear. You're safe. Nothing can harm you
now----"

"Please don' leave me."

After a moment: "I won't leave you. ... I wish I might never leave you."

In the tense silence that followed her trembling ceased. Then his
heart, heavy, irregular, began beating so that the startled pulses in
her body awoke, wildly responsive.

Deep emotions, new, unfamiliar, were stirring, awaking, confusing them
both. In a sudden instinct to escape, she turned and partly rose on one
elbow, gazing blindly about her out of tear-marred eyes.

"I want my room to myself," she murmured in a breathless sort of way,
"-- I want you to go out, please----"

A boyish flush burnt his face. He got up slowly, took his rifle from
the corner, went out, closing the door, and seated himself on the
stairs.

And there, on guard, sat Trooper Stormont, rigid, unstirring, hour after
hour, facing the first great passion of his life, and stunned by the
impact of its swift and unexpected blow.

* * * * *

In her chamber, on the bed's edge, sat Eve Strayer, her deep eyes fixed
on space. Vague emotions, exquisitely recurrent, new born, possessed
her. The whole w