“Yes, until he is exchanged.”
“But you were not sent to prison when you were captured,” she protested.
“No, I was paroled; but I hardly believe the government will parole any of Morgan’s men.”
“Why?” she asked.
“They have given us too much trouble, Puss. Now we have them, I think we will keep them.”
“Mark, Aunt Matilda don’t like my taking this Pennington in. She says father will not like it at all.”
“I will see Aunt Matilda, and tell her it is all right. I will also write to father. No, Joyce, I don’t want Pennington to die. It is best, even in war, to know you have not killed a man. So take good care of him, or rather see he has good care. Get a man to nurse him nights.”
“I will look out for that,” said Joyce.
“Well, Puss, good-bye, keep me posted. I had leave of absence only a few hours, so I must be going.”
“Oh, Mark, must you go so soon?” And she clung to him as if she would not let him go. Gently disengaging her arms, he pressed kiss after kiss on her brow and was gone. She sank into a chair weeping, and for a time forgot her prisoner.