"In your sense none," he returned. "How is De Courval?"
"Oh, better; much better."
"He seems to get himself talked about," said Mrs. Howard. "A fine young fellow, too."
"You should set your cap for him, Tacy," said Gainor to the blond beauty, Mrs. Lennox.
"It was set long ago for my Colonel," she cried.
"I am much honored," said her husband, bowing.
"She was Dr. Franklin's last love-affair," cried Gainor. "How is that, Tacy Lennox?"
"Fie, Madam! He was dying in those days, and, yes, I loved him. There are none like him nowadays."
"I never thought much of his nose," said Gainor, amid gay laughter; and they went to dinner, the Pearl quietly attentive, liking it well, and still better when Colonel Howard turned to chat with her and found her merry and shyly curious concerning the great war she was too young to remember well, and in regard to the men who fought and won. Josiah, next to Mrs. Lennox, contributed contradictions, and Pickering was silent, liking better the company of men.
At dusk, having had their Madeira, they rode away, leaving only Margaret and Schmidt. The evening talk was quiet, and the girl, reluctant, was sent to bed early.