I turned to look into a pair of steady blue eyes, with a bit of mocking laughter in their depths, the face revealed clearly in the glare of the rockets. "Necessity only," I managed to reply. "I can be as gorgeous as these others, had I brought a bag with me." "No doubt; every British regiment tries to outdo the others in ribbons, and gold lace. Really they become tiresome with such foppery in war times. See how they play to-night, like children, the city practically unguarded from attack," she waved an ungloved hand toward the dark without. "I venture there are men out yonder, sir, who are not dancing and laughing away these hours." My cheeks burned. "You mean Washington's troops?" "Aye! I saw them here in Philadelphia before Sir William came," her voice lowered, yet earnest, "and they are not playing at war; grim, silent, sober-faced men, dressed in odds and ends, not pretty to look at; some tattered and hungry, but they fight hard. Mr. Conway was telling us yesterday of how they suffered all winter long, while we danced and feasted here, Washington himself sleeping with the snow drifting over him. You do not know the Americans, for you are not long across the water, but they are not the kind to be conquered by such child's play as this." "You are an American then?" "By birth, yes," unhesitatingly. "We are of those loyal to the King, but--I admire men." It was with an effort I restrained my words, eager to proclaim my service, yet comprehending instantly that I dare not even trust this plain-spoken girl with the truth. She respected the men, sympathized with the sacrifices of Washington's little army, contrasted all they endured with the profligacy of the English and Hessian troops, and yet remained loyal to the King's cause. Even as I hesitated, she spoke again. "What is your regiment?" "The 42nd British Foot." "You have not yet been in action in America?" "No, but I have just crossed the Jerseys with despatches." She shook her head, her cheeks glowing. "My home was there when the war began," she explained simply. "Now it is hate, pillage, and plunder everywhere. We fled to Philadelphia for our lives, and have almost forgotten we ever had a home. We loyalists are paying a price almost equal to those men with Washington. 'Tis this memory which makes me so bitter toward those who play amid the ruins." "Yet you have seemed to enter into the gay spirit of the occasion," and my eyes swept over her costume. "Oh, I am girl enough to enjoy the glitter, even while the woman in me condemns it all. You are a soldier--a fighting soldier, I hope--and still you are here also seeking pleasure." "True; I yielded to temptation, but for which I should never have come." "What?" "The dare in your eyes this afternoon," I said boldly. "But for what I read there I should be out yonder riding through the night." She laughed, yet not wholly at ease, the long lashes drooping over her eyes.