Colonel Mowbray looked thoughtfully stern.
"Perhaps it was as well Kenwyne took the Americans home last night," he remarked.
"You asked them to stay," Beatrice said, with more indignation than she cared to show; "and after what they did——"
Mowbray cut her short.
"I cannot deny that we are heavily in their debt, and I shall take the first opportunity for thanking them. In fact, if I can make any return in the shape of practical help, I shall be glad. All the same, to have had them here would have meant our putting them on a more intimate footing than might be wise."
Beatrice smiled, but said nothing. She respected her father, but the thought of his helping such a man as Harding was amusing.
"From what I've heard about Mr. Harding, I don't think he would have presumed upon it," Mrs. Mowbray replied. "Besides, it looks as if we owed Lance's life to him and his companion and I really don't see why you object to the man. Of course, it was tactless of him to plow up our trail, but he was within his rights."
Mowbray looked at her sharply. His wife was generally docile and seldom questioned his decisions, but she now and then showed an unexpected firmness.
"I don't object to him, personally. For that matter, I know very little about him, good or bad," he said; and his tone implied that he was not anxious to learn anything more. "It is rather what he stands for that I disapprove of."
"What does he stand for?"