“No, you wouldn’t unless you’d lived among them.  They’d all admit he had done the right thing.  They’d say that, having come out here to marry her, he could do no less than go through with it.  That part of it would be all right.  Even in the Rangers it might make comparatively little difference—­except that now and then Olivia would feel uncomfortable.  Only when he was mentioned at the Horse Guards for some important command they’d remember that there was something queer—­something shady—­about his wife’s family, and his name would be passed over.”

He nodded thoughtfully.  “I see.”

“Oh no, you don’t.  It’s much too intricate for you to see.  You couldn’t begin to understand how poignant it might become, especially for her, without knowing their ways and traditions—­”

He jumped to his feet.  “Their ways and traditions be—!”

“Yes; that’s all very fine.  But they’re very good ways, Peter.  They’ve got to keep the honor of the Service up to a very high standard.  Their ways are all right.  But that doesn’t keep them from being terrible forces to come up against, especially for a proud thing like her.  And now that the postponing of the wedding has got into the papers—­”

“Yes; I’ve seen ’em.  Got it pretty straight, too, all things considered.”

“And that sort of thing simply flies.  It will be in the New York papers to-morrow, and in the London ones the day after.  We always get those things cabled over there.  We know about the elopements and the queer things that happen in America when we don’t hear of anything else.  Within forty-eight hours they’ll be talking of it at the Rangers’ depot in Sussex—­and at Heneage—­and all through his county—­and at the Horse Guards.  You see if they aren’t!  You’ve no idea how people have their eye on him.  And when they hear the wedding has been put off for a scandal they’ll have at their heels all the men who’ve hated him—­and all the women who’ve envied her—­”

He leaned his shoulders against the mantelpiece, his hands behind his back.  “Pooh!  That sort of dog can only bark.”

“No; that’s where you’re wrong, Peter.  In England it can bite.  It can raise a to-do around their name that will put a dead stop to his promotion—­that is, the best kind of promotion, such as he’s on the way to.”

“The deuce take his promotion!  Let’s think of—­her.”

“That’s just what I thought you’d do, Peter; and with all your advantages—­”

“Drop that, Drusilla,” he commanded.  “You know you don’t mean it.  You know as well as I do that I haven’t a chance—­even if I wanted one—­which I don’t.  You’re not thinking of me—­or of her.  You’re thinking of him—­and how to get him out of a match that won’t tend to his advancement.”

“I’m thinking of every one, Peter—­of every one but myself, that is.  I’m thinking of him, and her, and you—­”

“Then you’ll do me a favor if you leave me out.”