Still once more the president cleared his throat, this time peremptorily. The judge-advocate, considerably out of countenance, hastily forestalled him, that he might justify his course by bringing out the point he desired to elicit, reading his question aloud for its submission to the court, though her last reply had rendered his clincher of little force.
"Did you say to Captain Baynell that you have no intention of marrying again merely as a subterfuge—to soften the blow, because you expect to marry Lieutenant Roscoe as soon as the war is over?"
His suspicion that Baynell had been accessory to the concealment of young Roscoe so long as he did not fear him as a rival was evident. Baynell turned suddenly and stared with startled eyes in which an amazed dismay contended with futile anger that this,—such a motive—such a course of action, could be attributed to him.
She replied only to the obvious question, evidently not realizing the implication. The tension was over; her color had returned; her voice was casual.
"No. I have no thought of marrying Lieutenant Roscoe."
"Has he asked you to marry him?"
"Long ago,—when he was a mere boy."
"And again since your widowhood?"
"No."
"You have seen him since?"