Barlow’s eyes hardened at that mention of Stevens. Yet when he spoke his voice was kind.
“Miss Arlington, I want you to know how sorry I am about this whole thing,” he urged. “If I were in absolute command here I should not hold either Stevens or you a minute. But you must see that I am not master here. A soldier must learn to obey, before anything else. The regulations make it impossible for me to do anything differently until the colonel comes.”
She turned again toward the window.
“Miss Arlington—May,” he said, his voice lowered, “you remember what I said to you not long ago? Well, I want to repeat it. Why can’t you give a fellow a chance, or a bit of hope? I’m not such a bad lot, and I’m certainly as well situated as this fellow Stevens.”
She turned upon him again with flashing eyes.
“Don’t take advantage of the fact that I must listen,” she said. “You once claimed to be a gentleman!”
“And I am one now.”
“Then don’t bring up that subject again. I never gave you any encouragement, and——”
“May Arlington,” he interrupted, his voice high and sharp now, “you still stick to that, do you? And you scorn me for that fool of a cowboy? Why, I’d have you know that I’m a gentleman, and the son of a gentleman!”
She turned once more to the window and looked out, but her cheeks were red, and one foot tapped the carpet impatiently.