“Meadows! Miss Meadows!”
Meadows extended her hand and smiled.
“We’ve been looking for you, Colonel,” she said.
Hamilton presented Colonel Charbonneau and the latter glanced in surprise at the single bar on Hamilton’s shoulder. Meadows read his astonishment.
“‘Colonel’ is just an honorary title we’ve given him,” she explained. “Because he’s so dignified and old-fashioned.”
Col. Charbonneau threw back his head and laughed.
“Are all colonels supposed to be so dignified?”
“Oh, I was speaking only of our southern American colonels,” replied Meadows. “They’re a special variety.”
“But your young officer was very gallant in defending the American women,” his eyes twinkled mischievously.
“Oh, yes,” flashed back Meadows, “they’re always defending womankind, or the white race or Anglo-Saxon institutions or something. And I sort of like it at that.” She darted the flushed Hamilton a look out of her dancing brown eyes. “Women still live in an age of chivalry—at least some of us do.”