“I—” she began.
“I see you did,” said the Colonel. “It doesn’t matter in the least—on the contrary, I regard it as a good thing, an excellent thing. Good-morning: I won’t keep you another moment.”
“But—really, Colonel—you are so strange—”
Mrs Fortescue spoke to empty air. The Colonel had left her. He stood for a minute or two in the street, pondering. He was making up his mind whether he would himself go straight to see Major Reid or leave things alone. While he was so deliberating in his mind, he saw Michael Reid coming down the street. Michael’s well-groomed figure, his dainty dress, his spotless turn-out, the very way he twirled his cane, the very manner in which he smoked his cigar irritated the Colonel almost past bearing.
“Insolent puppy!” he said to himself. He crossed the street, however, and went straight up to the young man.
“I presume you are on your way to my house?”
“Well, I—ar—I did not intend to call this morning,” said Reid, turning red as he spoke.
The Colonel gave him a shrewd glance.
“Florence Heathcote is expecting you. When I was young, it was considered extremely ungallant to keep young ladies waiting. We may as well walk together. What a pleasant morning, isn’t it, for the time of year?”
Reid murmured something. He wondered how he could possibly escape the Colonel. He did not wish to displease him, and yet he certainly had no desire to see Florence on that special morning. While he was deliberating, the Colonel stole his hand inside the young man’s arm.