But ther's a
heap o differ'nce 'tween a whack an' a smack.
When we had come back from dinner Uncle Eb drew off his boots
and sat comfortably in his stocking feet while Hope told of her
travels and I of my soldiering. She had been at the Conservatory,
nearly the whole period of her absence, and hastened home when
she learned of the battle and of my wound. She had landed two
days before.
Hope's friend and Uncle Eb went away to their rooms in good
season. Then I came and sat beside Hope on the sofa.
'Let's have a good talk,' I said.
There was an awkward bit of silence.
'Well,' said she, her fan upon her lips, 'tell me more about the war.
'Tired of war,' I answered; 'love is a better subject.
She rose and walked up and down the room, a troubled look in her
face. I thought I had never seen a woman who could carry her head
so proudly.
'I don't think you are very familiar with it,' said she presently.
'I ought to be,' I answered, 'having loved you all these years.
'But you told me that - that you loved another girl,' she said, her
elbow leaning on the mantel, her eyes looking down soberly.
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