“You understand, don’t you?”
“A—little.”
“You are Southern, then?” he said; and in spite of himself his heavy lids began to droop again.
“No; Northern,” she replied.
His eyes flew wide open at that, and he straightened up in his chair.
“Are you afraid of me, Soldier?”
“No,” he said, ashamed again. “But—you’re going to tell on me after I am gone.”
“No.”
“Why not?” he demanded suspiciously.
She leaned both elbows on the table, and resting her chin on both palms, smiled at him.