"The deuce you say!"
"That's right, Colonel. I heard him telling King about it. Larch is going to pay his wife a visit—going to call on her at her father's place in Pompey. And he's going to take her out a present. I believe that's the usual thing after a quarrel."
"Possibly," admitted the colonel. "Oh, I wish I'd never mixed up in this! I'm sorry for young Darcy, and I believe— Oh, well, what's the use of talking now! I'm in it and I must see it through. So Larch is going to visit his wife?"
"Yes. He's either sent her a present or is going to. I couldn't quite catch which."
"What sort of present, Jack?"
"A diamond cross."
"What?" and the colonel had suddenly to modulate his voice or he would have attracted more attention that he cared to. "A diamond cross? Are you sure about that, Young?"
"Sure! Why not? I don't see anything queer there. He might buy her a diamond cross as a sort of forgiveness gift. Same idea Harry King had you know, but a little higher class, that's all.
"You know, Colonel, these things are about alike. The man on Water Street gets drunk and brings his wife home a quart of oysters as a peace offering. The man on the boulevard does the same thing and patches up the break with a pearl pendant. It's all the same, only different."
"Yes, I suppose so. I didn't know you were a philosopher, Jack."