"Craig declares it makes no difference—and I'm beginning to agree with him."
"That's absurd!" Mowbray exclaimed. "False pride; mistaken sentiment! We know the advantage of springing from a good stock. Now I understand why I sometimes felt a curious sympathy with Harding, even when I hated his opinions."
"You gave us no reason to suspect it," Beatrice answered with a smile. "Do you know his father's history?"
"Yes; but I don't know that I ought to tell it without his son's permission."
"Then we'll wait," said Beatrice. "Craig will be here soon."
Harding came in a few minutes afterward, and Mowbray, giving him a friendly greeting, handed him the letter Lance had brought, and the photographs.
"Your father was a comrade of mine," the Colonel said. "We were both stationed at an outpost in Northern India."
"Then you may be able to tell me something about his early life," replied Harding quietly. "It's a subject he never spoke of."
"I can do so. Are you willing that Beatrice and her mother should hear?"
"Yes; I don't wish to hide anything from them."