"I have just accepted Captain Prescott's escort, but I thank you for the honour, Mr. Sefton," she replied.
Mr. Sefton flashed Prescott a single look, a look that the young Captain did not like; but it was gone in a moment like a streak of summer lightning, and the Secretary was as bland and smiling as ever.
"Again do I see that we civilians cannot compete with the military," he said.
"It was not his shoulder straps; he was quicker than you," said Mrs. Markham with a soft laugh.
"Then I shall not be a laggard the next time," replied the Secretary in a meaning tone.
The meeting of the club came to an end a half-hour later, but first there was a little ceremony. The coffee was brought in for the third and last time and all the cups were filled.
"To the cause!" said General Markham, the host. "To the cause that is not lost!"
"To the cause that is right, the cause that is not lost," all repeated, and they drank solemnly.
Prescott's feelings as he drank the toast were of a curiously mingled nature. There was a mist in his eyes as he looked upon this gathering of women and one-armed men all turning so brave a face and so bold a heart to bad fortune. And he wished, too, that he could believe as firmly as they in the justice of the cause. The recurring doubts troubled him. But he drank the toast and then prepared for departure.