"So I thought, too, last night." A tinge of infinite disillusionment was in her young voice. "But it is not so."
"Then you accept—?"
The shrouded head nodded.
"But you can't want to," he broke out with sudden heat. "You don't know him at all, do you—this general?"
"Know him? I have never seen his face nor heard his voice—and I would die first," she added with bitter, helpless fierceness under her breath.
The veil muffled that from him. "But why—why?" he repeated in an angrily puzzled way.
She made a little gesture of weary impotence. Out of the dark draperies her hands were like white fluttering butterflies.
"What can I do?"
"I should think you could do the Old Harry of a lot."
"Weep?" said the girl with a pale irony not lost upon him.