CARY AND JACQUELINE


At supper table that evening at Fontenoy, Ludwell Cary said something
complimentary to the prisoner in the blue room. Fairfax Cary fired up.
"You are too easy, Ludwell! Lewis Rand, I warn you, is a dangerous man!
Serve him once, and you serve him once too often!--begging your pardon,
Colonel Churchill!"

"We could hardly have left him, you know," reasoned his host
good-naturedly, "on the roadside, and Dick Wood's the nearest house! And
once within a man's doors, every attention, of course, must be shown.
But, as you say, he is a dangerous fellow."

"Dangerous fiddlesticks!" growled Major Churchill from the other side of
the table, where he sat at Jacqueline's right hand. "I would have as
soon called old Gideon Rand dangerous! Like father, like son. You may be
sure that this fellow's spirit rolls tobacco. Maybe now and then it
breaks a colt.

"Dangerous' implies power to be dangerous," said Cary, "and conversely
power to be humane. A turn, and all the strength of the man may flow
toward good."

"A fool and his doctrine!" snapped Major Edward. "I do not expect grapes
from thistles, or a silk purse from a sow's ear."

"Tut, tut, Ned! The man who carries this county may be a damned
Republican, but he is not a fool," pronounced Colonel Dick. "Jacqueline,
my dear, another cup of coffee."