“What brush do you refer to?” asked Major Riggleston, rather coldly.
“The little rub we had with the guerillas.”
“Really, you have—”
“Now, gentlemen, will you excuse me for a few moments?” said Miss Hasbrouk, very impolitely breaking in upon the major’s remark.
“Certainly,” replied Somers, with his politest bow. “You are a fighting man, Major Riggleston; and the affair of yesterday was pretty sharp work for a few minutes.”
“Of course I’m a fighting man; but—”
“Major, you promised me something, you will remember,” said the lady, who still lingered in the room; “and now is the best time in the world to redeem your promise.”
“What do you mean, Maud?” demanded the major.
“Why, don’t you remember?”
“Upon my life I don’t.”