'Ye're no sayin' a great deal,' she remarked at last. 'What girl
are ye thinkin' aboot?'

'Ach, I'm dashed wearit,' he said. 'I didna sleep a wink last
nicht.'

'Puir sojer laddie!' Her smooth, hot cheek touched his. 'Pit yer
heid on ma shouther. . . . I like ye because ye're shy . . . but
ye needna be ower shy.'

Suddenly he gave a foolish laugh and thrust his arm round her
waist. She heaved a sigh of content.

* * * * *

By making all haste Macgregor managed to get back to the camp in
advance of Willie. He was in bed, his eyes hard shut, when his
friend appeared in the billet.

Willie, who was unusually flushed, bent over him and, sniggering,
asked questions. Getting no response, he retired grinning and
winking at no one in particular.

Macgregor did not sleep well. If you could have listened to his
secret thoughts you would have heard, among other dreary things--

'But I didna kiss her; I didna kiss her.'