Stewart went on.
"As for the cadets—they swear by him—every last boy of them! Rob will be wild when he hears you are in England, and will probably take 'French leave'!" Stewart laughed again. "There! That's the family history. Now, what about yourself?"
The girl ran her hand thoughtfully along the railing.
"Papa was stationed at the Fort for three years after you left us. Since then we've been moving from pillar to post—in regular Army fashion. You know how it is?" She raised her eyes to Stewart and Stewart nodded. "He was ordered to Florida and then to Arkansas and then to Alaska—" she laughed. "He sent me to boarding school for a year but I couldn't stand not seeing him, and he was even worse about me. After that he taught me himself—dear, old Daddy—he taught me everything from calculus to colt riding. It's been a wild kind of a life, but I've missed the old Fort and the sea. None of the other places was ever much like home—" Cary raised her eyes from the railing and looked soberly toward the receding shore.
Stewart watched her; realizing that while she had not grown pretty she was possessed of an indefinable magnetism.
Cary went on.
"Then Daddy got notions about me—about my lack of advantages, social and—otherwise," Cary was laughing again. "He was retired last month and now he's carrying me off to Europe, to be polished. Am I such a rough specimen?" she asked Stewart, suddenly.
He shook his head so gravely in denial that she smiled.
"There! Of course, I was only fooling! And so I'm going over to your great, beautiful, strange Old World to be 'finished'—as if anyone could ever be 'finished' as long as they live! I'm to see all the celebrated Old Masters and to visit all the old historic places and see the old ruins—" she broke off suddenly, "I think by the time I've finished, I'll be very tired, don't you?"
"And then?" asked Stewart.