“Yes, my boy,” continued the Colonel, in a tone of tender regret, “I don’t think you treated your friends very well. I don’t think you should have jumped at the wrong conclusion as quickly as you did. I would willingly have let you have the money if I had not known it was certain to go where the rest of your cash had gone.”
“It is quite possible I was mistaken, Colonel; I always was rather hot-headed, and if in this case I made an error, I now offer apology.”
“It hurt me, it hurt me at the time,” murmured the Colonel in reminiscent tones; “but if only myself were involved, I would never have said a word. I am a man of the world, and am accustomed to the ups and downs of the world. I make no pretence that your silent desertion caused me permanent grief. I resented your impetuous action, but would never have spoken if no one else had been concerned.”
“No one else concerned? I do not understand you. Who else was concerned?”
“Well, to speak frankly, as between man and man, I think you treated my niece Sadie rather badly.”
“You astonish me, Colonel. I never treated any woman badly.”
“I have been all my life a very busy man,” rejoined the Colonel, with more of severity in his tone than had hitherto been the case, “and I frankly admit that much went on in my own household of which I was not cognisant. During the first months of our acquaintance you visited us somewhat frequently.”
“Well, what of it?”
“What of it? This much of it, that I did not know until you had left that the affections of my niece were centred upon you.”
“You are quite mistaken, Colonel.”