"Then, I'll stroll on, Colonel," he said. "By Jove!" The mild expletive was a tribute to Providence.
Not a word was spoken by father or daughter until Wrandall was many rods away.
"Where did you meet Leslie Wrandall?" she demanded, showing which way her thoughts ran. They were far from filial.
"Aviation field—somewhere," said he in a vague sort of way. "Pau, I dare say. What are you doing here? I hear you've cut loose from Wrandall's sister-in-law. Was that a sensible thing to do?"
"I fancy you've been misinformed," said she in an emotionless voice, but offered no further word of explanation.
"Shan't we sit down here on this bench, my dear?" suggested the Colonel, distinctly ill at ease.
"For the sake of appearances, yes," she assented.
Leslie, looking over his shoulder from a distance, saw them sitting together on one of the outer benches.
"By Jove!" he said to himself once more, this time with accumulative perplexity.
"See here, Hetty, my child," began the Colonel nervously, "it's all nonsense your taking the stand you do toward me. I am your father. I repeat, it's all nonsense—damned nonsense. You've got to—"