“I couldn’t buy a full uniform,” she said truthfully. She did not add that she had left at a minute’s notice for the most dangerous undertaking ever asked of her, borrowing discarded makeshifts anywhere at hazard.
“Are you a West Pointer?”
“No.”
“Oh! You’ve their seat—and their shapely leanness. Are you going with us?”
“Where are you going?”
Stanley laughed. “I’m sure I don’t know. It looks to me as though we were riding straight into rebeldom.”
“Don’t you know why?” she asked, looking at him from under the shadow of her visor.
“No. Do you?”
“Yes.”
After a pause: “Well,” he said, laughing, “are you going to tell me?”