"It's the way of the women, I grant you."
"Come, come, let us leave the women alone for a bit. They've brought things to a crisis. It's the last straw. Well and good. Doesn't that suggest an opportunity?"
"Now, you know, you've got something in your lawyer's head. Come, man, what the deuce are you driving at?"
"We haven't drunk Renshaw's health yet," said the Judge with apparent irrelevance. They rose and raised their glasses. Linton—who had taken no part in the recent discussion—now watched his uncle expectantly. "Renshaw, God bless him! and bring him back to England!"
"By the way," said Sir Robert, casually, as they resumed their seats, "is Wardlaw with us?"
The General, who had taken his old friend's lecture in good part, nodded: "Of course he is. Isn't nearly every man, in both services? Do you suppose we want an army of Amazons armed with lethal weapons to keep in order?"
"What about the Corps of Commissionaires?"
"Being their Commander, I ought to know. Seventy per cent. of 'em, at least, are dead against petticoat government. They're good chaps, and they've seen good service. They don't like the way the country is being run any more than you or I do. You take my word for that."
The Judge mused for a moment, tipping the ash from his cigar.