“You know, Lieutenant,” she smilingly said in a voice as welcome as that of a dying aunt about to give you a hundred thousand dollars, “I’ve been thinking of the wonderful work you are doing, and while I was singing my first song to-night I looked down at you and I had an inspiration which I think will help you.” This was the highest compliment I had ever been paid in my life. I had disgusted people, displeased them, and even been repulsive to some, but this was the first time I had ever been the cause of inspiring any one. I thought it was the psychological moment to put the question. I had previously concluded that when a woman begins to talk about inspiration she has fallen in love herself, so without inquiring further about this particular inspiration, I turned to love. “Eileen,” I said, and my voice quivered, for I had not called her that before—it had been Miss ——, “do you know, I want to ask you a question.” She said nothing, and I did not look, though I was certain that she had modestly turned her head away from me, bashfully anticipating the fatal question which was sure to come. “Do you know, Eileen,” I stammered on, nodding my head affirmatively in order to carry along with my words additional evidence of my sincerity, “I have been wondering why you have paid this attention to me to-night and have been heedless of the pressing attentions of the Colonels, the Majors and the Captains. I don’t like to talk like this so soon, but you are leaving to-morrow and I might never have another opportunity.” Then I thought of that song, “Just you, Dear, just you,” and I knew quite well that she would say that she had been giving me all this attention amidst the jealous and envious looks of my superior officers because she, herself, individually wished to and because she liked or maybe loved me. Whereupon I was going to second the motion and say, “Ditto, I love you, Eileen,” and all that sort of bunk and close the contract. I pictured myself enfolding her in my willing arms and making solemn vows such as I would stand on my ear for her, etc.; all of this, of course, being contingent upon her responding in the way I fully expected. Smiling—her teeth reflected glory in the moonlight—she demurely asked me, “Why, don’t you know?” That would have been all right ordinarily, but it had a ringing inflection I failed to comprehend, and being a man of words instead of action, I said, “No, I don’t know.” “Well,” she went on rather surprised at my stupidity, “you see, our manager instructed us that the higher officers do not need the attention and encouragement of the young ladies because they do not have to undergo any hardships, so we have been instructed to pay as much attention as possible to the junior officers, and as you were about the most junior here—well——”