"Her mother!" repeated Major Gale, with his little cackling laugh.
"And Mr. Chandos himself was urgent," continued the lady, "no doubt he hoped for 'one fair daughter.'"
"The fair daughter having arrived and seen her home, if I'm not mistaken, will never forgive him for his mésalliance."
"Poor Chandos," exclaimed Mr. Lepell, "all through his life he has meant well, and done ill; he has made a mull of everything—career, profession, marriage."
"Ah," said Major Gale, standing up and straightening himself, "that is the one pitfall I have eluded."
"Thank you, Major Gale."
"Oh, yes, with all respect to you, Mrs. Lepell, I am a timid man, and there are too many blanks. It is not everyone who is so lucky as Lepell, and draws a great prize." Here Major Gale nodded and smirked; he was rather pleased with the manner in which he had turned this delicate compliment. "There's early parade to-morrow, and I must be off, Salwey," turning to the policeman, "can I give you a lift back—you are on my road?"
"Thank you, no; my road is by water. I like rowing myself to and fro these moonlight nights."
"Ah, see what it is to be young and romantic!" and having made his polite adieus, the little Major effected a brisk departure.