PRIVATE FIRST CLASS “Oh my gosh, I’m sorry. Why aren’t you folded up clean in lavender—as every young woman ought to be? What have you been doing with yourself?. ‘Only you made me lose my temper, and—’ ‘I made you do so? Pah!’ Gerald at last succeeded in ripping the handkerchief from her grasp, and swiftly held it to her neck, oblivious to her now bloodied fingers clawing at his hand. Her eyes fell, and then sought his again with timid interest. “I will put the question,” Drummond said gravely. “So you’re the one my son has been talking about.
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