I'm glad to have that old trouble
healed up. I don't THINK I ever did Rogers any wrong, and I never did
think so; but if I DID do it--IF I did--I'm willing to call it square,
if I never see a cent of my money back again."

"Well, that's all," said his wife.

They did not celebrate his reconciliation with his old enemy--for such
they had always felt him to be since he ceased to be an ally--by any
show of joy or affection. It was not in their tradition, as stoical
for the woman as for the man, that they should kiss or embrace each
other at such a moment. She was content to have told him that he had
done his duty, and he was content with her saying that. But before she
slept she found words to add that she always feared the selfish part he
had acted toward Rogers had weakened him, and left him less able to
overcome any temptation that might beset him; and that was one reason
why she could never be easy about it. Now she should never fear for
him again.

This time he did not explicitly deny her forgiving impeachment. "Well,
it's all past and gone now, anyway; and I don't want you should think
anything more about it."

He was man enough to take advantage of the high favour in which he
stood when he went up to town, and to abuse it by bringing Corey down
to supper. His wife could not help condoning the sin of disobedience
in him at such a time. Penelope said that between the admiration she
felt for the Colonel's boldness and her mother's forbearance, she was
hardly in a state to entertain company that evening; but she did what
she could.

Irene liked being talked to better than talking, and when her sister
was by she was always, tacitly or explicitly, referring to her for
confirmation of what she said. She was content to sit and look pretty
as she looked at the young man and listened to her sister's drolling.
She laughed and kept glancing at Corey to make sure that he was
understanding her. When they went out on the veranda to see the moon
on the water, Penelope led the way and Irene followed.

They did not look at the moonlight long. The young man perched on the
rail of the veranda, and Irene took one of the red-painted
rocking-chairs where she could conveniently look at him and at her
sister, who sat leaning forward lazily and running on, as the phrase
is. That low, crooning note of hers was delicious; her face, glimpsed
now and then in the moonlight as she turned it or lifted it a little,
had a fascinat