“Why, God bless my soul, the likeness to Juliet Mascarene. Phyl, turn your face to the light.”
The Colonel, searching in his waistcoat pocket, found a pair of folding glasses and put them on.
“She gets it from her mother’s side,” said Miss Pinckney, “the Lord knows how it is these things happen, but it’s Juliet, isn’t it?”
The Colonel removed his glasses, wiped them with his handkerchief, and returned them to his pocket.
“It is,” said he. Then in the fine old fashion he turned to the girl, raised her hand to his lips and kissed it.
“Phyl,” said Miss Pinckney, “would not you like to have a look at the garden whilst we have a chat? Old people’s talk isn’t of much interest to young people.”
“Old people,” cried the warrior. “There are no old people in this room.” He made for the door and opened it for Phyl, then he accompanied her into the hall, where at the still open door he pointed the way to the garden.