years?"

She moistened her lips. He seemed to speak as though it were only a
matter of time--as though it were he who was being punished and it was
only a question of how long. She sank back with her eyes upon the
stars darting shafts of white light through the purple.

"And what am I going to do while I'm waiting?" he went on, as though to
himself.

Grimly she forced out the words:--

"You--you must n't wait. There 's nothing to wait for."

She saw his arms tighten; saw his lips grow hard.

"Nothing?" he exclaimed. "Don't make me believe that, because--then
there would n't be anything."

She grew suddenly afraid.

"There would be everything else in the world for you--everything except
me," she trembled. "And I count for so little. That's what I want you
to learn. That's what, in a little while, you will learn. That's what
you must learn. If you'll only hold on until to-morrow--until the next
day and I'm gone--"

"Gone?"

He sprang to his feet.

"Monte!" she warned.

In terror she struggled to her own feet. The white light of the stars
bathed their faces. In the distance he heard the notes of a trumpet
sounding taps. It roused him further. It was as though the night were
closing in upon him--as though life were closing in on him.

He turned and seized her.

"Marjory!" he cried. "Look me in the eyes."

She obeyed.

"They are sounding taps over there," he panted. "Before they are
through--do you love me, Marjory?"

Never before in all his life had he asked her that directly. Always
she had been able to avoid the direct answer. Now--

She tried to struggle free.

"Don't--don't ask me that!" she pleaded.

"Before they are through--do you love me?"

Piercing the still night air the final notes came to her. There was no
escape. Either she must lie or tell the truth and to lie--that meant
death.

"Quick!" he cried.

"I do!" she whispered.

"Then--"

He tried to draw her to him.

"You made me tell you, Monte," she sobbed. "Oh, you made me tell the
truth."

"The truth," he nodded with a smile; "that was all that was necessary.
It's all that is ever necessary."

He had released her. She was crowding against the wall. She looked up
at him.

"Now," he said, "if it's one year or two years or three years--what's
the difference?"

Her eyes suddenly grew as brilliant as the stars. She straightened
herself.

"Then," she trembled, "if it's like that--"

"It might as