“Rubbish!” he answered. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. She had not seen Ramage for ten or eleven days, and she was quite ready for a gossip with him. But Gerald took it for the routine interest in an eligible bachelor, although he was aware many females had an eye for scarlet regimentals. “It’s the spring,” he said. “Miss Pellissier,” he said, “these gentlemen are your friends, and therefore they are my friends.
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