No, Margaret, it is not worth while to protest any further.

My young Yankee and I will manage it very well between us." Miss Woodville stepped aside and smiled wanly.
"I think it is best, Miss Woodville," Dick said in a low tone.
"Perhaps," she replied.
Colonel Woodville impatiently threw off the cover.

He wore a long purple dressing gown, and his wound was in the leg, but it was partly healed.
Dick helped him out of the bed and then supported him with his arm under his shoulder.

Within that singular abode the roar of the guns was a steady and sinister mutter, but beneath it now appeared another note.
Colonel Woodville had begun to swear.

It was not the torrent of loud imprecation that Dick had heard in Jackson, but subdued, and all the more fierce because it was so like the ferocious whine of a powerful and hurt wild animal.