rishe lifted his
hat from his sleek, well-shaped head. He had the barest acquaintance
with Sir Denis, and he would have passed by if the old soldier had not
stopped him.

"How do you do, Captain Langrishe?" he said. "I am very much obliged to
you for the pleasure you give me every morning. I take it as uncommonly
kind of you to bring 'the boys' past my house. I assure you I quite look
forward to it--I quite look forward to it."

Langrishe stammered something about the regiment delighting to do honour
to its old General, growing redder and redder as he did so. His
confusion became him in the General's eyes. He was certainly a
pleasant-looking, well-mannered boy, the General decided, and the
confusion of the young soldier in the presence of the old soldier an
entirely natural and creditable thing.

"I'll tell you what, my lad," said Sir Denis, putting his arm within the
other's: "if you've nothing better to do, supposing you come and lunch
with me. I'm just going in to the club. And you--on your way to it? I
thought so. You'll give me the pleasure of your company?"

The General was half an hour late, yet he found a small table in a
window recess unappropriated. It was set for two, and a screen was drawn
about it so that the two could be as retired as they wished. More--the
General had not been forgotten in the distribution of the curry. Their
portions came up piping hot. From where they sat the General could see
Sir Rodney Vivash and Grogan button-holing each other. They were the
bores of the club, and for once they had foregathered, willingly or
unwillingly.

After all, there were compensations--there were compensations; and the
General was hungry. His manner towards young Langrishe had an air of
fatherly kindness. There was a gratified flush on the young fellow's
lean, dark cheek. What was it the General had heard about Langrishe? Oh,
yes, that he had had rough luck--that his old uncle. Sir Peter--the
General remembered him for a curmudgeon--had married and had a son,
after rearing the young fellow as his heir. No wonder the lad looked
careworn. The regiment was an expensive one; not too expensive for Sir
Peter Langrishe's heir, but much too expensive for a poor man.

However, it was no business of the General's--not just yet.

"You have met my daughter, I think?" he said. They were at the cheese by
this time, and the General was apparently divided between the merits of
Gruyere and Stilton. He did not glance at