"I beg your pardon. That was just as rude in me as if you had called
Mr. Lincoln 'Abe.'"
She now burst out laughing. "Heaven knows we do it often enough," she said.
"I was aware of that."
"This won't do at all," she resumed. "Your hand is growing a little feverish, and if my visits do not make you better I shall not come. I think we have defined our differences sufficiently. You must not 'reverence' me any more. I couldn't stand that at all. I will concede at once that you are a gentleman, and that this lovely girl is my equal; and when our soldiers have whipped your armies, and we are free, I shall be magnanimous, and invite you to bring this girl here to visit us on your wedding trip. What is her name?"
"Marian Vosburgh. But I fear she will never take a wedding trip with me. If she did I would accept your invitation gratefully after we had convinced the South that one flag must protect us all."
"We won't talk any more about that. Why won't Miss Vosburgh take a wedding trip with you?"
"For the best of reasons,—she doesn't love me well enough."
"Stupid! Perhaps she loves some one else?"
"No, I don't think so. She is as true a friend as a woman can be to a man, but there it ends."
"With her."