“I am almost sorry, I think,” she said, looking about her wistfully. “But it’s all over.”
“Except the comradeship.”
“No, not even excepting that. You will get your clean clothes and I all the conventions once more and—all that they mean. I am ready;” and she sighed.
I helped her into the saddle.
“And it was only yesterday I would not let you help me to mount. It seems a year ago,” she said. “You gave me that lesson in will power; but I beat you this morning, Burgwan, and had my revenge.”
“Do you mean about my going to Belgrade?” I challenged.
“Ah, you will promise me then?”
“If I promised I should only break my word.”
“Promise, and I will trust you—for the sake of the comradeship.”
“Then I will not promise.”