The things we do!

And now, at the very time I am
indiscreet enough to tell you this much, you make my cheerful task
the more difficult by saying that you must be regarded only as a
prisoner of war!"
Serene, smiling, enigmatic, she faced him with no fear whatever
showing in her dark eyes. The clear light of the bright autumn
morning had no terrors for youth and health like hers. She put
back a truant curl from her forehead where it had sought egress to
the world, and looked him full in the face now, drawing a deep
breath which caused the round of her bosom to lift the lace at her
throat. Then, woman-like, she did the unlocked for, and laughed at
him, a low, full ripple of wholesome laughter, which evoked again a
wave of color to his sensitive face. Josephine St. Auban was a
prisoner,--a prisoner of state, in fact, and such by orders not
understood by herself, although, as she knew very well, a prisoner
without due process of law. Save for this tearful maid who stood
yonder, she was alone, friendless.


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