“And for the future,” said Lois.

“The devil take the future,” said Boyd, his quick, careless laugh ringing out again. “Today I am lieutenant, and Loskiel, here, is ensign. Tomorrow we may be captains or corpses. But is that a reason for pulling a long face and confessing every sin?”

“Have you, then, aught to confess?” asked Lois, in pretense of surprise.

“I? Not a peccadillo, my pretty maid — not a single one. What I do, I do; and ask no leniency for the doing. Therefore, I have nothing to confess.”

Lana stopped, bent low over a forest blossom, and touched her face to it. Her cheeks were burning. All about us these frail, snowy blossoms grew, and Lois