“Don’t know; he said he might not return to-night.”
Roland borrowed a newspaper, and sat down to while away a tedious evening.
People came in and went out, but as early as ten o’clock the barroom was nearly deserted.
“Do you think the colonel will be likely to return during the night—after the house is closed, for instance?” inquired Roland.
“Don’t know at all. But, even if he should come in after we have shut up, there’ll be somebody to let him in. Is the colonel a friend of yours?”
“Do you want to insult me?” demanded young Roland, firing up.
“Oh, no, not at all—no offense! I only asked because you seemed so anxious to see him,” mildly pleaded the bartender.
“One may be anxious to see a fellow from other motives than friendship,” said Roland, sulkily.
“So they may,” conceded the barkeeper. “And ever since that rumpus in the church that broke up the wedding there’s a good many people who are anxious to see the colonel out of curiosity.”
“Ah, they want to see what the monster looks like who, having a living wife, tries to marry an heiress!”