"I hadn't thought of that. You're different from these people, and yet," he went on, "you're not like most women outside, either. You've seemed to combine the best of the two extremes. You--" He looked up to see her gazing at him with a light of triumph in her face. VB never knew, but it was that hour for which she had waited months, ever since the time when she declared to her father, with a welling admiration for the spirit he must have, that he who broke the Captain was a _man_. Here he was before her, talking personalities, analyzing her! Four months before he would not even linger to say good-by! Surely the spell of her womanhood was on him. "Oh!" she cried, bringing her hands together. "So you've been thinking about me--what sort of a girl I am, have you?" Her eyes were aflame with the light of conquest. Then she said soberly: "Well, it's nice to have people taking you seriously, anyhow." "That's all any of us want," he answered her; "to be taken seriously, and to be worthy of commanding such an attitude from the people about us. Sometimes we don't realize it until we've thrown away our best chances and then--well, maybe it's too late." On the words he felt a sudden misgiving, a sudden waning of faith. And, bringing confusion to his ears, was the low voice of this girl-woman saying: "I understand, VB, I understand. And it's never too late to mend!" Her hand lay in her lap, and almost unconsciously he reached out for it. It came to meet his, frankly, quickly, and his frame was racked by a great, dry sob which came from the depths of his soul. "Oh, do you understand, Gail?" he whispered doubtfully. "Can you--without knowing?" He had her hands in both his and strained forward, his face close to hers. The small, firm fingers clutched his hardened ones almost desperately and the blue eyes, so wide now, looking at him so earnestly, were filmed with tears. "I think I've understood all along," she said, keeping her voice even at the cost of great effort. "I don't know it all--the detail, I mean. I don't need to. I know you've been fighting, VB, nobly, bravely. I know--" He rose to his feet and drew her up with him, pulling her close to him, closer and closer. One arm slipped down over her shoulders, uncertainly, almost timidly. His face bent toward hers, slowly, tenderly, and she lifted her lips to meet it. It was the great moment of his life. Words were out of place; they would have been puerile, disturbing sounds, a mockery instead of an agency to convey an idea of the strength of his emotions. He could feel her breath on his cheek, and for an instant he hung above her, delaying the kiss, trembling with the tremendous passion within him. And then he backed away from her--awkwardly, threatening to fall, a limp hand raised toward the girl as though to warn her off. "Oh, Gail, forgive me!" he moaned. "Not yet! Great God, Gail, I'm not worthy!"