His had been a lonely life since leaving West Point and joining his
regiment--a life passed largely among rough men and upon the desolate
plains. For months at a time he had known nothing of refinement, nor
enjoyed social intercourse with the opposite sex; life had thus grown
as barren and bleak as those desert wastes across which he rode at the
command of his superiors. For years the routine of his military duties
had held him prisoner, crushing out the dreams of youth. Yet, beneath
his mask of impassibility, the heart continued to beat with fierce
desire, biding the time when it should enjoy its own sweet way.
Perhaps that hour had already dawned; certainly something new,
something inspiring, had now come to awaken an interest unfelt before,
and leave him idly dreaming of shadowed eyes and flushed, rounded
cheeks.
He was in this mood when he overtook the Rev. Howard Wynkoop and marked
the thoughtful look upon his pale face.
"I called at your camp," explained Wynkoop, after the first words of
greeting had been exchanged, "as soon as I learned you were here in
command, but only to discover your absence.
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