In an astonishment that well nigh made him spring from his chair, he asked:
"How do you know that?"
"Our hostess is rising," she replied with a calm dignity that was fascinating to the young man. "We ladies must leave you gentlemen to your wine and cigars."
"I do not take wine," he replied, "and as for cigars I shall gladly give them up in favor of a further conversation with you. If you permit, I will quit the table with you."
"There!" she exclaimed. "That's one of the 'thousand' things I spoke of. In Virginia you gentlemen manifest a certain deference toward women that I have seen nowhere else. It is gallantly protective, respectfully, not servilely submissive, a tribute of strength to weakness which carries with it no reflection upon the weakness, and to women it is the most fascinating thing imaginable. I've expressed it lamely, but—" and with that she took a handful of cigars from the passing box and added:
"At any rate your courtesy to me shall not cost you your smoke. We won't go into the drawing room, but into the porch. The day is mild, and I want to tell you that story."
"Tell me first," he said as they passed into the porch, "how you happen to know anything about it."
"It is simple enough. I've heard my brother tell the story with enthusiasm many, many times."
"Your brother?"
"Yes. Holmes Wentworth is my elder brother. My mother was married twice, you know."