“A serious question. The major might not indulge in this sort of flirtation in the ordinary way, but he had seen enough among his army colleagues to know just how to go about it. "The traps!" responded a bystander. He carried a cane and a silk hat with a mourning-band in one gray-gloved hand; his frock-coat and trousers were admirable; his handsome face, his black mustache, his prominent brow conveyed an eager solicitude. You don’t understand, Lucy, they just aren’t like that. It’s a sort of guarantee of confidence. “And by what right do you do anything of the sort?” “No right at all,” he admitted. Winifred listened to his narration with the profoundest attention; and, when it concluded, her tearful eye and throbbing bosom told how deeply her feelings had been interested.
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