“Is there anything I can do for you?” he asked respectfully.
“After the general is awake—if I might have the use of a room—and a little fresh water—” Speech died in her throat; some of the color died in her face, too.
“Did you wish me to awake him now? If your business is urgent I will,” said Captain West.
She did not reply; an imperceptible twitching tightened her lips; then the young mouth relaxed, drooping a trifle at the corners. Lying there, so outwardly calm, her tired, faraway gaze fixed absently on him, she seemed on the verge of slumber.
“If your business is urgent,” he was repeating pleasantly. But she made no answer.
Urgent? No, not now. It had been urgent a second or two ago. But not now. There was time—time to lie there looking at him, time to try to realize such things as triumph, accomplishment, the excitement of achievement; time to relax from the long, long strain and lie nerveless, without strength, yielding languidly to the reaction from a task well done.
So this was success? A pitiful curiosity made her eyes wistful for an instant. Success? It had not come as she expected.
Was her long quest over? Was this the finish? Had all ended here—here at headquarters, whither she had returned to take up, patiently, the lost trail once more?
Her dark gaze rested on this man dreamily; but her heart, after its first painful bound of astonishment, was beating now with heavy, sickened intelligence. The triumph had come too suddenly.
“Are you hungry?” he asked.