Indeed he hinted as much. He said he did not often get an
opportunity of talking to a man like myself--he told me that he and your
mother, when they travel together, are always mistaken for a honeymoon
couple. Some of the experiences he related to me were really quite
amusing." The stranger laughed at recollection of them--"that even here,
in this place, they are generally referred to as 'Darby and Joan.'"

"Yes," said the girl, "that is true. Mr. Longcord gave them that name,
the second evening after our arrival. It was considered clever--but
rather obvious I thought myself."

"Nothing--so it seems to me," said the stranger, "is more beautiful
than the love that has weathered the storms of life. The sweet, tender
blossom that flowers in the heart of the young--in hearts such as
yours--that, too, is beautiful. The love of the young for the young,
that is the beginning of life. But the love of the old for the old, that
is the beginning of--of things longer."

"You seem to find all things beautiful," the girl grumbled.

"But are not all things beautiful?" demanded the stranger.

The Colonel had finished his paper. "You two are engaged in a very
absorbing conversation," observed the Colonel, approaching them.

"We were discussing Darbies and Joans," explained his daughter. "How
beautiful is the love that has weathered the storms of life!"

"Ah!" smiled the Colonel, "that is hardly fair. My friend has been
repeating to cynical youth the confessions of an amorous husband's
affection for his middle-aged and somewhat--" The Colonel in playful
mood laid his hand upon the stranger's shoulder, an action that
necessitated his looking straight into the stranger's eyes. The Colonel
drew himself up stiffly and turned scarlet.

Somebody was calling the Colonel a cad. Not only that, but was
explaining quite clearly, so that the Colonel could see it for himself,
why he was a cad.

"That you and your wife lead a cat and dog existence is a disgrace to
both of you. At least you might have the decency to try and hide it from
the world--not make a jest of your shame to every passing stranger. You
are a cad, sir, a cad!"

Who was daring to say these things? Not the stranger, his lips had not
moved. Besides, it was not his voice. Indeed it sounded much more like
the voice of the Colonel himself. The Colonel looked from the stranger
to his daughter, from his daughter back to the stranger. Clearly they
had not heard the voice--a mere