"Jim," she gasped below her breath.
"We met in the confusion on the battlefield," he went on. "I had been shell-shocked and he put on my uniform to lead my men——"
"Shell—shock——"
"Yes. He took my uniform. It was a fool proceeding. When I came to, everything was in confusion. He would have been courtmartialed and shot if I had turned up, so I went back to the lines and came to Paris——"
"While he won you the Croix de Guerre. And you're going to step into his shoes——"
"They're my shoes. It's not my fault——"
"And he—what's to become of him?"
"That's his lookout. He merely disappears from the scene."
She leaned heavily against the mantel shelf, breathing fast. But she had no reply, and so he went on unpleasantly.
"Now, perhaps you would like to explain."