“Yes—Celia—” His voice fell softly, making of her name a caressing cadence. The Special Messenger bent her head lower over her bridle.
“Why do you ask? Did you know her?”
“Yes.”
“Well?”
The captain lifted his grave eyes, but the Messenger was not looking at him.
“I knew her—in a way—better than I ever knew any woman, and I saw her only three times in all my life. That is your answer—and my excuse for asking. Does she still live at Sandy River?”
“No.”
“Do you know where she has gone?”
“She is somewhere in the South.”
“Is she—married?” he asked under his breath.