Her expression changed slightly

“Oh, her!” she said after a pause.  Then, half-resignedly, “Go on, Kla’uns.”

He began.  He had a dozen times rehearsed to himself his miserable story, always feeling it keenly, and even fearing that he might be carried away by emotion or morbid sentiment in telling it to another.  But, to his astonishment, he found himself telling it practically, calmly, almost cynically, to his old playmate, repressing the half devotion and even tenderness that had governed him, from the time that his wife, disguised as the mulatto woman, had secretly watched him at his office, to the hour that he had passed through the lines.  He withheld only the incident of Miss Faulkner’s complicity and sacrifice.

“And she got away, after having kicked you out of your place, Kla’uns?” said Susy, when he had ended.

Clarence stiffened beside her.  But he felt he had gone too far to quarrel with his confidante.

“She went away.  I honestly believe we shall never meet again, or I should not be telling you this!”

“Kla’uns,” she said lightly, taking his hand again, “don’t you believe it!  She won’t let you go.  You’re one of those men that a woman, when she’s once hooked on to, won’t let go of, even when she believes she no longer loves him, or meets bigger and better men.  I reckon it’s because you’re so different from other men; maybe there are so many different things about you to hook on to, and you don’t slip off as easily as the others.  Now, if you were like old Peyton, her first husband, or like poor Jim, or even my Boompointer, you’d be all right!  No, my boy, all we can do is to try to keep her from getting at you here.  I reckon she won’t trust herself in Washington again in a hurry.”

“But I cannot stay here; my career is in the field.”

“Your career is alongside o’ me, honey—­and Boompointer.  But nearer me.  We’ll fix all that.  I heard something about your being in disgrace, but the story was that you were sweet on some secesh girl down there, and neglected your business, Kla’uns.  But, Lordy! to think it was only your own wife!  Never mind; we’ll straighten that out.  We’ve had worse jobs than that on.  Why, there was that commissary who was buying up dead horses at one end of the field, and selling them to the Government for mess beef at the other; and there was that general who wouldn’t make an attack when it rained; and the other general—­you know who I mean, Kla’uns—­who wouldn’t invade the State where his sister lived; but we straightened them out, somehow, and they were a heap worse than you.  We’ll get you a position in the war department here, one of the bureau offices, where you keep your rank and your uniform—­you don’t look bad in it, Kla’uns—­on better pay.  And you’ll come and see me, and we’ll talk over old times.”

Brant felt his heart turn sick within him.  But he was at her mercy now!  He said, with an effort,—­