"Very good of you, I am sure," returned Arthur, seeing she waited for him to say something, and feeling how two-faced the words were, mother of his though she was. "What is it you wish to say?"
"It's about that girl, Miss--what do you call her?--Adair. Young men will be young men; soldiers especially; I know that; but wrong is wrong, and it cannot by the most ingenious sophistry be converted into right. It is quite wrong to play with these village girls, as you seem to be doing with Miss Adair."
Arthur threw back his head as though his pride were hurt. Madam had seen just the same movement in his father.
"I have no intention of playing with Miss Adair."
A gleam shot from her eyes--half fear, half defiance. She bit her lip, and went on in a still softer tone.
"You cannot mean anything worse, Arthur."
"I do not understand you, madam. Worse? Worse than what?"
"Anything serious. To play with village girls is reprehensible; but----"
"I beg your pardon, mother; this is quite unnecessary. The playing with village girls--whatever that may mean--is not a habit of mine, and never has been. The caution might be more appropriate if applied to your men-servants than it is to me."
"Allow me to finish, Arthur. To play with village girls is reprehensible; but to intend anything serious with one would be far more so in your case. Will you profit by the caution?"