“Nonsense! Who told you that rubbish?”
“The young lady’s aunt—Rob’s mother.”
“The deuce!”
“But she was quite right. She said such an union was better avoided, and that her niece had long ago acquiesced in the wisdom of the arrangement. There, my cigar’s nearly out, and I’m ready for bed.”
“Don’t hurry. I was thinking again of how well Glynne looked when she said good-night.”
“Lovely,” said the major, with a sigh.
“Rolph, too,” cried Sir John enthusiastically, and as if he had wound himself up to make the best of everything. “By George, what a specimen of a man and a soldier he looked when he went to-night. Isn’t he grand, Jem? Wouldn’t you have liked to have three or four hundred such fellows in the Indian war?”
“Yes; in the ranks,” said the major.
“Jem!”
“All right. He’s a grand specimen of humanity, and as he says hard as a brick.”