"'Oh!' said I. 'I'm a delicate flower, it seems. You've been protecting me all day. Who's Roger?'
"'My brother,' said she, smiling up at me.
"'Was that the man you kissed in the cabin back yonder?'
"'Shame!' said she. 'You peeped.'
"'Was it?' I insisted, for I wanted to know. And she told me.
"'Yes,' she told me, in that low voice of hers that was hard to hear, only it paid to listen.
"'Did you ever kiss any other man?' said I.
"'It's none of your business,' said the girl. 'But I didn't—the way you mean.'
"'Well, it wouldn't make any difference, anyway—nothing would,' I said. 'Except this—are you ever going to?'
"All this time that bright-colored head of hers was on my shoulder, Confederate cap and all, and I was afraid of my life to stir, for fear she'd take it away. But when I said that I put my face down against hers and repeated the question, 'Are you ever going to?'