“What do you mean?” his wife asked impatiently.
“Oh, dash it all, Augusta! Don’t you see? Can’t you see? The man’s life was broken off short. Why should he—how could he care to carry on?”
His wife glanced curiously at her husband. She felt at times that there was in this loyal, gallant little man something more than the commonplace and quietly controlled gentleman he appeared to be, something she had failed to explore. “He had the place, and——”
“The place!” snorted the Colonel. “Pardon me, my dear. I mean, to one of Gaspard’s temperament, you know—well——” The Colonel’s voice trailed off into silence.
“But there was the boy,” said his wife, covertly watching his face.
“Yes! Yes! Of course, there was the boy,” the Colonel hurried to acquiesce. “Certainly, there was the boy. He ought to have got himself in hand. A shame it was, an inexcusable weakness.” His quick laugh puzzled his wife.
“Well, I do wish he would return,” continued the Colonel, in a quick change of voice. “The boy needs him, and will need him more and more.”
“At least, the boy is not suffering,” said his wife sharply.
“Of course, the little chap’s quite all right. He has everything he needs. I don’t mean he hasn’t,” replied the Colonel quickly. “Don’t imagine anything, Augusta. He’s a lucky beggar to tumble into such a home as he has got. But there’s his future. He has parts, you know—brilliant parts. And not much chance for development here.”
“He is a tremendous responsibility,” sighed his wife. “I frankly confess he puzzles me more than a little.”