'But I come not to speak of that.'
'Of what, then?'
'Of Mary and your new friend, Falconer.'
'Falconer!' exclaimed Sir Piers, staring blankly at Hew through his gold eyeglasses.
'Seriously, sir, it seems to me that, thanks to the propinquity your unwise hospitality has afforded them, Mary is drifting, with that fellow Falconer, the way that many other young ladies have drifted before her.'
'What does this mean?' exclaimed Sir Piers, wheeling his chair sharply round. 'Worry, of course; and, d—n it! I am getting too old to have any worry—had enough of it in my time, up country! Has propinquity not helped you? Gad, sir, in my day, I should like to have seen the biped that could turn my flank with any girl; but why the devil don't you push the trenches yourself?'
'But don't you think they have become too intimate?' asked Hew, with growing irritation.
'Why? How?'
'With all this singing, music, and philandering.'
'Pooh! not at all. Let them amuse themselves. I was once their age. It is no use making a fuss; but why the deuce don't you cut in, and sing, play, and philander too, as you call it? Besides, Falconer in a few hours now returns to Dumbarton, or to headquarters, and there is an end of it all! To me, Hew, it seems natural enough that young Falconer should be attracted by our Mary; but aware of her position, of my views and your wishes, and more than all, your prospects and rank when I am gone,' he added, glancing at a portrait of his dead son, 'I should very much doubt if she encouraged any particular attention on his part.'