"So I said. I cannot think of it yet without a slight shudder."
"Yes, and a rehearsal. Your eyes charge bayonets now. I am not a Sepoy."
"Well, you are still angry with me?"
"How can I be angry with you?"
"How, indeed? So much your senior that you owe me respect, Miss Marguerite. I am quite old enough to be your father."
"You are, Sir?" she replied, with surprise. "Why, are you fifty-five years old?"
"Is that Mr. Laudersdale's age?"
"How did you know Mr. Laudersdale Was my father?"
"By an arithmetical process. That is his age?"
"Yes; and yours?"