"Mr. Gault will think you feel unhappy about it."
The old man smiled, and leaning forward, clasped her hand and held it.
"Mr. Gault," he said, with quite a grand air, "knows better than that. The opinions of other people don't affect our happiness. I don't resent the prosperity of my old mates, nor feel any discouragement at our present—er—temporary embarrassments."
Viola stirred uneasily, and said quickly:
"No—no; of course not. Why should you?"
John Gault rose here, and she rose, too. Her embarrassment, which had vanished during the evening's conversation, now returned, and she plucked nervously at the paper flower on the lamp-globe. It seemed to him that she was anxious for him to go.
With the colonel it was otherwise. Rising and standing upright in the patched limpness of his dressing-gown, he affected incredulity at the thought that his guest contemplated such an early departure. Then, being politely assured that this was unavoidable, and that, for the matter of that, it was now close upon eleven, he urged him to repeat the visit at an early date.
"We are always here, Viola and I," he said. "We have not many engagements, as you see—just a friend here and there. But we value
