He reddened. "Yes, I have," he said. "Or rather she has confirmed what I had begun to suspect."
"Clelia has told you who she is!" I exclaimed.
"She has."
"Isn't that disobedience of orders?"
"She told me before I could stop her. I never dreamed she was going to tell me. It came out—like a bolt of lightning—while I—I was—slipping over her finger that ring I used to wear——"
"She wears it!"
"Yes. She was glorious. She——"
"And she's going to marry you?"
"Yes, God bless her."
So I wrung his hand in silence and strove hard not to let any comparison of his situation and mine taint with the slightest trace of bitterness my happiness in his good fortune and my cordial recognition of it now.