Detricand thrilled at the touch of the hot, tremulous fingers. He hadnever been very so near her before. His face was not far from hers.Now her breath fanned him. As he bent his head for the bandaging, hecould see the soft pulsing of her bosom, and hear the beating of herheart. Her neck was so full and round and soft, and her voice--surelyhe had never heard a voice so sweet and strong, a tone so well poised,so resonantly pleasant.

When she had finished, he had an impulse to catch the hand as it droppedaway from his forehead, and kiss it; not as he had kissed many a hand,hotly one hour and coldly the next, but with an unpurchasable kind ofgratitude characteristic of this especial sort of sinner. He was justyoung enough, and there was still enough natural health in him, to knowthe healing touch of a perfect decency, a pure truth of spirit. Yet hehad been drunk the night before, drunk with three noncommissionedofficers--and he a gentleman, in spite of all, as could be plainly seen.