“I think I understand, little girl,” he said gravely. “You are totally unused to such life. Almost without a moment's warning you have been plunged into a maelstrom of adventure, and are all confused. It is different with me—since the first shot at Sumter my life has been one of action, and adventure has grown to be the stimulus I need, and upon which I thrive. But I assure you,” pressing the soft hand warmly, “I am real.”
“Of course I know that; it makes me glad to know it. If I could only do something myself, and not just sit here, it would all become real enough to me.”
She rose suddenly to her feet, clasping her hands together, her face changing with new animation.
“Why couldn't I? I am sure I could. Oh, Mr. Keith, it has just come to me how I can help.”
He looked at her questioningly, thinking of her beauty rather than of what she said.
“Do—do I really appear so much like—like that woman?” she asked anxiously.
“Very much, indeed, excepting for the slight difference in age.”
“That would never be noticed in the dark, or a poor light. Am I the same height?”
“Practically, yes.”
“And my voice?—could you distinguish me from her by my voice?”