A gust of irrational impatience blew through her being. The joy that filled her veins with throbbing fire urged her to rise and go swinging and whirling and dipping. “I might go home, I don’t know. . “Suppose I chuck it,” she remarked, standing with the mauve slip in her hand —“suppose I chuck it, and surrender and go home! Perhaps, after all, Roddy was right! “Father keeps opening the door and shutting it, but a time will come— “I could still go home!” She held Ramage’s check as if to tear it across. She touched it, and her gaze lifted. ’ ‘Capting Roding wouldn’t never command me to help no Frenchie,’ said the sergeant positively. The entrance was barred against them; and they had the additional mortification of hearing Sheppard's loud laughter at their discomfiture. The boy she had loved was gone.
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