"I dare say. I should give a good deal to know what you have been. Come, James, tell me what the trouble was. I have influence; I might help you."
"I am past help;"—which was true enough, only the real significance of his words passed over her head. "I thank you for your kindness."
If she was piqued, she made no sign. "James, were you once a gentleman, in the sense of being well-born?"
"Miss Annesley, you would not believe me if I told you who I am and what I have been."
"Are you a deserter?"—looking him squarely in the eye. She saw the color as it crept under his tan.
"I have my honorable discharge,"—briefly.
"I shall ask you to let me see it. Have you ever committed a dishonorable act? I have a right to know."
"I have committed one dishonorable act, Miss Annesley. I shall always regret it."
She gave him a penetrating glance. "Very well; keep your secret."
And there was no more questioning on that ride; there was not even casual talk, such as a mistress might make to her servant. There was only the clock-clock of hoofs and the chink of bit metal. Warburton did not know whether he was glad or sorry.