"You mean because--"
"He has been much to me," she interrupted, "perhaps still is, although--" she paused suddenly, catching her breath,--"yet this can make no difference."
"But it does."
She remained silent, and, I thought, drew slightly back.
"You do not wonder?" I asked, unable to restrain myself, "you do not ask why? May I not tell you?"
"I prefer you should not," very quietly. "I am not foolish enough to pretend that I do not understand. We are going to part now, and you will forget."
"Is it then so easy for you?"
"I need not confess, only I see how utterly foolish all this is. The conditions bringing us together in a few hours of intimacy have been romantic, and, perhaps, it is not strange that you should feel an interest in me. I--I hope you do, for I shall certainly always feel most kindly toward you, Lieutenant Galesworth. We are going to part as friends, are we not? You will remember me as a little Rebel who served you once, even against her conscience, and I will continue to think of you as a brave soldier and courteous gentleman. Isn't that worth while? Isn't it even better than dreaming an impossible dream?"
"But why impossible?"
"Surely you know."