'He is too fond of cards, sir—too fond of cards for my taste, sir.'
'I never saw a card in his hand!' persisted the other.
'Strange!'
The lieutenant-colonel thought these remarks more than strange, too; but Sir Piers did not choose to inform him of Hew's malevolent reports, and plunged at once into sundry reminiscences of Jodpore and its Rajpoots.
Mary would certainly be the queen of the forthcoming regimental ball, and Falconer was full of the most delightful anticipations concerning it.
'Leslie Fotheringhame will be there!' was the secret thought of Annabelle Erroll; 'how are we to meet? As strangers? Would that I had not come to Edinburgh at all—and yet!'
Yet—what? She scarcely knew.
Mary was in full anticipation also of the ball—its joys and its brilliance, and nightly laid her head on the pillow to sleep and dream, if she could, of a region where all was romance, light and splendour, bands of music, festooned banners and brilliant uniforms, with one central figure—Cecil Falconer!