'I informed him that I proposed burying the hatchet.'
'You are not going to give up active service!' exclaimed Mrs. Wylie in astonishment.
'I promised to go to one more campaign—the Russo-Turkish—which will come on in the spring, and after that I shall follow the paths of peace.'
Mrs. Wylie rolled up her table-napkin, and inserted it meditatively into an ancient silver ring several sizes too large for it.
'I used to think,' she murmured, 'that you would never follow the ways of peace.' Then she looked across the table into his face with that indescribable contraction of the eyes which sometimes came even when her lips were smiling.
'I am not quite sure of you now, Theo,' she added gently, as she rose and led the way towards the door.
Trist reached the handle before her, and held the door open with that unostentatious politeness of his which made him different from the general run of society young men. As she passed, he smiled reassuringly, and said in his monotonous way:
'I am quite sure of myself.'
'Not too sure?' she inquired over her shoulder.
'No.'