"It couldn't be worse, sir," Stuart admitted in low tones. "I'm a goner."
"All right. You've no time to lose, I'll give you three days—"
"Thank you!"
"This regiment will be on the march before a week has passed or I miss my guess."
"I'll be here, sir!" was the quick response.
Stuart grasped the leave of absence and hurried out before another messenger could arrive.
He reached Fort Riley the following day and had but twenty-four hours in which to crowd the most important event of his life.
He paced the floor in Colonel Cooke's reception room awaiting Flora's appearance with eager impatience. What on earth could be keeping her? He asked himself the question fifty times and looked at his watch a dozen times before he heard the rustle of organdy on the stairs.
A vision of radiant youth! She had taken time to make her beauty still more radiant with the daintiest touches to her blonde hair.
The simple dress she wore was a poem. The young cavalier was stunned anew. There was no doubt about the welcome in her smile and voice. It thrilled him to his fingertips. He held her hand until she drew it away with a little self-conscious laugh that was confusing to Stuart's plan of direct action.