"God—bless—my—soul!" exclaimed the Major, staring harder than ever.
"'Fore Gad, man Jack, it came on me like a charge o' cavalry. Like you I meant to live and die a free man and now—O Gad! 'Tis her eyes, I think, I see 'em everywhere—blue, you'll mind, Jack, blue as—as—well, blue."
"Aye, they're blue!" nodded the Major, all grave attention at last.
"Well, 'tis her eyes, Jack, or else her dooced demure airs, or her languishing graces, or her feet, or her shape, or the way she smiles, or—O damme! Howbeit I'm smitten, Jack—through and through—done for and be curst to it!"
"You too!" sighed the Major and stared into the fire again.
"Aye—and why not i' faith? I'm a man sound in wind and limb and but few years ya' senior—why the devil not? She's free to wed and if she's willing and I've a mind for't who the devil's going to stay me—ha?" The Major sighed and shook his head. "Save us, Jack, but ya're curst gloomy, I think!"
"Why as to that, as to that, George, I fear I am. Perhaps if we crack a bottle before we go to bed—how say you?"
"With all my heart!" So the Major brought bottle and glasses and, having filled to each other, they sat awhile each staring into the fire. "And now," continued the Colonel, "what's to stop me a-marrying, Jack, if I'm so minded, come?"
"Is she likely to—to make you happy, George?"
"Rabbit me—and why not?"