how are you--quite well? Glad to see me back again, eh?"

"Very glad indeed," was the dutiful answer.

"That's all right. I've had dinner--if you can call it dining in the
train. Where's the best fire to be found?"

"You may as well come to the drawing-room," said Carrissima.

"Good!" replied the colonel, and then turned to the butler. "Knight,
I'll have some soda and whisky."

He accompanied Carrissima up-stairs, blowing out his red cheeks and
beating his cold hands together with considerable energy. Going to the
fire, he stood on the hearthrug warming his palms and making
perfunctory inquiries after Lawrence and Phoebe and their child.

"How do you think I'm looking?" he demanded, suddenly facing Carrissima.

"Splendid," she answered. "I don't think I have ever seen you looking
better."

"Well, I never felt better," he exclaimed, putting back his shoulders
and puffing out his chest. "Never in the whole course of my life.
Nobody at the hotel would believe I was anything like my age--fifty or
fifty-five at the outside. Upon my soul, I can scarcely believe it
myself. I can give a start to a good many youngsters yet. Not too
much soda-water, Knight," he added, when the whisky and the syphon were
brought in. "What's been happening while I've been away?" he asked,
alone again with Carrissima.