"Some girl, I'll bet," remarked one of the young men.
"Not so singular as that, Mr. Priest. The plural is 'girls,'" said Miss Grand.
"I am relieved," said David. "It's much easier to understand the plural of girl. Girl in the first person singular is incomprehensible."
"Do you really think so?" asked Miss Grand calmly. He bowed very low and said no more. It occurred to him in a flash that this fair girl knew more of him, in a way, than any one present.
Later on, at the foot of the stairs, she came up with him. Without the slightest trace of embarrassment she remarked:
"I think you knew my father, Mr. Jenison."
He flushed in some confusion. "Your father is Colonel Robert Grand?"
"Yes. It was he who told me your story, long ago. I have always been interested."
David hesitated for an instant, then boldly put his question: "May I ask where Colonel Grand is at present? I hear you no longer live in Baltimore."
It was a very direct attack, but he justified himself through the impression that she invited it.