and the taller, slenderer of these latter,
a soldierly, brown-eyed fellow with a heavy moustache and a week-old
brown stubble on cheeks and chin, stepped quickly forward and whipped
off his drab slouch hat. For the first time in her life Florence Allison
saw her friend the lieutenant in service dress, and knew not what to
say. All the response to his cordial "Good-evening, Miss Allison. How
are you, Mr. Allison?" was the hurried hustling past of the pair, the
girl with averted head, the father reddening and embarrassed. Florence
was bundled quickly into the carriage, and then Allison turned. "You'll
have to excuse my daughter to-night, Mr. Forrest. She isn't well,
and--er--er--I'll hope to see you to-morrow." And, lifting his hat, he
followed Florence. The door was slammed, and away they went, leaving
Forrest gazing after them in no pleasant frame of mind.

Major Cranston touched his arm. "Come over to my tent, Forrest. I can
explain something of this," he said.

And the next morning, after some sleepless hours, with permission from
Colonel Kenyon to be absent from camp until noon, Mr. Forrest took a cab
and drove far up town, making only one stop--at a florist's--on the way.
The Allison carriage was coming forth just as he reached the well-known
gates. Mrs. Lawrence and Florence, seated therein, did not catch sight
of the occupant of the cab until he raised his hat. Florence gasped,
grabbed Aunt Lawrence by the arm, called to their coachman, and glanced
back.

But no, Mr. Forrest had no thought of stopping there at all. The cab
drove straight on past the Allison homestead, and something told her
whither it was bound.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XVI.

Mr. Allison did not meet Lieutenant Forrest that day as he had "hoped
to." He did not hope to at all. He hoped not to for several days, and a
very uncomfortable man he was. Forrest, however, seemed making no effort
to find him, as the millionaire rather expected him to do. Forrest's
duties were somewhat confining, and Allison even kept away from his pet
club awhile, dreading to meet with officers who were being entertained
there at all hours. The Lambert was another place that for a while he
religiously avoided. He was becoming afraid of Wells. It gave him a
queer feeling, however, when driving home to luncheon one day, to see an
orderly holding two officers' horses opposite the private entrance, and
Cranston and Forrest in conversation with Mr. Wells. They wer