"Yes. I wasn't so bad at the time."
During his inspection of the cabin interior, Dexter had noticed a woman's cloak and hat hanging on one of the wall pegs. Now he suddenly turned, and pointed with his thumb. "Whom do those belong to?" he demanded.
The patient moved gingerly under his blanket, rolling his head so he might see. "Those are Mrs. Stark's," he said.
"What?" The exclamation came sharply, before Dexter could control his voice, and his knife and fork dropped on the table. "You mean to say—she's married?" He stared for a moment with puckered brows, and then almost instantly recalled himself. "I mean—Stark has a wife?"
"Yes."
"She left here yesterday?" asked the corporal in low, curiously restrained accents.
"No," returned the other unhesitatingly. "She left a couple of weeks ago for a visit in the settlements. She hasn't come back yet."
"Let's get this straight," said Dexter after a tense interlude, "She's been away for a couple of weeks, you say. What's she like? Rather pretty girl, copper-tinted hair, large blue eyes—wearing—"
"No," interrupted Smith. "Not at all."
Dexter drew a short breath. "Well?" he demanded.