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"I am glad to hear it is only 'admire,'" he remarked, slowly, "for had the word been any other I should have resented it." They were all in a laughing group around him, with Tom as master of ceremonies, and Ruth Clinton was looking up into his face with an expression I am glad I can never forget. It killed all my regrets on the score of his future. Patricia flung herself on her sister, overwhelming her in a flurry of pink kimono and white arms. "Tell me!" she cried. "Tell me this minute, you aggravating thing! You're getting to be a regular miser of your news—you won't give up till it's dragged out of you. Speak, or I'll have your life!".
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"Did we draw such rosy pictures?" asked Patricia in surprise. "I thought we told you it was remarkably spotty and just as smelly." I stopped on next to the bottom step in the wide old hall and called Tom to turn out the light for me, as Jane had gone out. The major, owing to circumstances heretofore related, was a confirmed bachelor, but he did not intend that his boys should follow so bad an example. He wished Maurice to marry Miss Isabella Dallas, a charming blonde from the West Indies; and David he designed as the husband of Lady Meg Brance, daughter of Lord Seamere. But Jen was mistaken in thinking that he could guide the erratic affections of youth, as will hereafter be proved. Sure enough, the lads fell in love, but both with the same woman, a state of things not anticipated by the major, who was too simple to be a matchmaker. "To be queen of the black witches of Obi, no doubt. Faugh!".
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