“Why, brother, how provoking you are!” exclaimed Miss Sophie. “It is nothing of the sort. It is child’s play; it is the way the youngsters do at school. I feel as if I never knew you before; you are full of surprises.”
“I surprise myself,” he said, with something like a sigh, “and that is the trouble; I don’t want to be too surprising.”
“But in war,” said his sister, “the successful general cannot be too full of surprises.”
“In war!” he cried. “Why, I was in hopes the war was over.”
“I was thinking about the old saying,” she explained—“the old saying that all is fair in love and war.”
“Well,” said Francis Underwood, “it would be hard to say whether you and Dr. Bynum are engaged in war or not. You are both very sly, but I have seen a good deal of skirmishing going on. Will it end in a serious engagement, with casualties on both sides? The doctor is something of a surgeon, and he can attend to his own wounds, but who is going to look after yours?”
“How can you go on so!” cried Miss Sophie, laughing. “Are we to have an epidemic of delusions?”
“Yes, and illusions too,” said her brother. “The atmosphere seems to be full of them. Everything is in a tangle.”
And yet it was not long after this conversation that Miss Sophie observed her brother and Mildred Bascom sauntering together under the great cedars, and she concluded that he was trying to untangle the tangle.
There were many such walks, and the old Judge, sitting on the piazza in bright weather, would watch the handsome pair, apparently with a contented air. There was something about this busy and practical young man that filled Mildred’s imagination. His individuality was prominent enough to be tantalizing. It was of the dominant variety. In him the instinct of control and command, so pleasing to the feminine mind, was thoroughly developed, and he disposed of his affairs with a promptness and decisiveness that left nothing to be desired. Everything seemed to be arranged in his mind beforehand.