"That is just what I was thinking, and when we were going to hunt for you, too, when we landed! Come!"
"There isn't much to tell," said Stewart, meeting her eyes squarely. "There have been a good many years—uneventful ones—of a pretty steady 'grind', and rather rigid military training at Woolwich—"
She looked up quickly.
"You are an officer? An engineer?"
He laughed, pleased.
"You know more about our English military schools than the majority of American girls."
"You forget I am an Army woman. Go on!"
"And so I'm a member—a young one—of the Royal Engineers. I was ordered to India, where I served out my sub-lieutenancy. I was in a bit of a row there, and after, I took the jungle fever and got sick leave. They've sent me over the Atlantic for a sea trip. I'm to be transferred later. I was only in New York two days. That's why I couldn't look you up. You see, I didn't know if you were still at the old fort down South, or in Texas or Montana or—any other of your big states." He was rapidly getting off of the subject of "self." "Now, where have you been and why didn't you keep on writing?"
"I did write, but you wouldn't answer—sent the letters to your home in Scotland."
"Ah! We were traveling; the old place has been rented almost steadily for years. They must have miscarried in the forwarding. Father has preferred London political life, and mother wanted to be near us boys when at school and afterwards when we became cadets—"