his kind condescension. And, oh Lud, it was time she was gone, or poor,
dear Weston would be imagining her slaughtered on the highway.

Geoffrey could not make much of this, but was pleased to take it as
flattering feminine homage to his magnificence. By way of reward, he
announced an intention of riding home with her carriage. "Faith, you are
too good"--her eyes were modestly hidden--"but then you are too good to
everybody. Is he not, Mr. Boyce?"

"Oh, ma'am, we all practise on his kindness," Harry said.

"A good night to your mourning," she said sharply, "dear Lady Waverton."
They kissed. "Colonel Boyce, I hold you to your promise."

"With all my heart, ma'am. Your devoted."

She was gone, and Harry, with a look of significance at his father, went
off too....

In that shabby upper chamber of his, Harry again offered the Colonel a
choice between the bed and the one chair. Colonel Boyce made a gesture
and an exclamation of impatience, and remained standing. "Now, what the
devil do you want with me?" he complained.

"I want to be very grateful. I want to enlist with you. When shall
we start?"

His father frowned, and in a little while made a crooked answer, "Do you
know, Harry, you are too mighty subtle. I was so at your years. It's very
pretty sport, but--well, it won't butter your parsnips. The women can't