"Well," said the Major hesitatingly, "her age——"
"Dooce take me, she's none so old——"
"Old!" repeated the Major, "nay indeed I——"
"She's no filly I'll allow, Jack, but then I shed my colt's teeth long ago. Nay, she's rather in her blooming prime, summer—er—languishing to autumn——"
"Autumn!" murmured the Major, staring.
"No—I see nought against it unless—O smite me, Jack!" The Colonel set down his glass and stared at the Major who stared back at him.
"Unless what, George?"
"Unless y'are bitten too." The Major frowned into the fire again. "If y'are, Jack, if y'are, why then damme I'll not come athwart ya'—no, no—old friends—Gad, no! I'll ride away to-morrow and give you a clear field."
"I shall never marry—never, George!" said the Major and sighed deeper than ever. The Colonel refilled his glass, raised it to his lips, sighed in turn and put it down again.
"Love's a plaguy business!" he groaned. "How old are ye, Jack?"