I'll appear
absurd--_absurd_! Do you understand?"
Shocked, she stared into his inflamed visage, which anger and
tortured vanity had marred past all belief.
"Is _that_ why you care?" she asked slowly.
"Ailsa! Good God--I scarcely know what I'm saying----"
"I know."
She stepped back, eyes darkening to deepest violet--retreated,
facing him, step by step to the doorway, through it; and left him
standing there.
CHAPTER XIII
Berkley's first letter to her was written during that week of
lovely weather, the first week in March. The birds never sang more
deliriously, the regimental bands never played more gaily; every
camp was astir in the warm sunshine with companies, regiments,
brigades, or divisions drilling.
At the ceremonies of guard mount and dress parade the country was
thronged with visitors from Washington, ladies in gay gowns and
scarfs, Congressmen in silk hats and chokers, apparently forgetful
of their undignified role in the late affair at Bull Run--even
children with black mammies in scarlet turbans and white wool
dresses came to watch a great army limbering up after a winter of
inaction.
He wrote to her:
"Dearest, it has been utterly impossible for me to obtain leave of
absence and a pass to go as far as the Farm Hospital.
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