“I think the more,” he declared.
“Think? Oh, dear me! I didn't know that anybody does anything so unfashionable nowadays as to think! And what do you think about, pray?”
“About you!”
And that began it: he was a gallant man, and he had been a brave one. He was not aware how far he was going on so short an acquaintance, but his temerity was not displeasing to the lady. She liked his manner of storming the citadel, and she did not realize that he merely spoke at random, as best he might. He was in his uniform a splendid and martial presentment of military youth, and indeed he was much the junior of his compeers.
“Who are Captain Girard's people, Papa?” she asked Colonel Duval next morning, as the family party sat at breakfast in quasi seclusion at one of the small round tables in the crowded dining-room, full of the chatter of people and the clatter of dishes.
“Girard?” Colonel Duval repeated thoughtfully. “I really don't know. I have an impression they live somewhere in East Tennessee. I never met him till just about the end of the war.”
“Oh, Papa! How unsatisfactory you are! You never know anything about anybody.”
“I should think his people must be very plain,” said Mrs. Duval. Her social discrimination was extremely acute and in constant practice.
“I don't know why. He is very much of a gentleman,” the Colonel contended. His heart was warm to-day with much fraternizing, and it was not kind to brush the bloom off his peach.
“Oh, trifles suggest the fact. He is not at all au fait.”