Colonel Fortescue and his right-hand man for twenty years, Sergeant Patrick McGillicuddy, rose to their feet and stood at "attention," as the flag fell slowly.

Then it was reverently furled, and the color sergeant, with the guard, started toward the Colonel's quarters, all whom they passed making way for them and saluting the furled colors.
Colonel Fortescue continued to look out of the window, while Sergeant McGillicuddy, getting some belated mail together, passed out of the office entrance of the fine new commandant's quarters.

Two horsewomen--Mrs.Fortescue, she who had been Betty Beverley, and her seventeen-year-old Anita--followed by a trooper as escort, were coming through the main entrance.

Colonel Fortescue's eyes softened as he watched his wife and daughter, Mrs.Fortescue as slim as when she was Betty Beverley of old in Virginia, and riding as lightly and gracefully as a bird on the wing.
There were two other watchers besides the Colonel.

These two stood at the drawing-room window.