he insisted, staring back at her.

“Lord!” said I. “Would you linger here making sheep’s eyes at yonder ragged baggage? Come, sir, if you please.”

“I tell you, I would give a half year’s pay to see her washed and clothed becomingly!”

“You never will,” said I impatiently, and jogged his elbow to make him move. For he was ever a prey to strange and wayward fancies which hitherto I had only smiled at. But now, somehow — perhaps because there might have been some excuse for this one — perhaps because what a man rescues he will not willingly leave to another — even such a poor young thing as this plaything of the camp — for either of these reasons, or for none at all, this ogling of her did not please me.