Permit me to present Captain Grant of the Queen's Rangers, Lieutenant--pardon my having already forgotten your name." "Fortesque," I stammered, intensely hating the necessary deception.
"Ah, yes--Lieutenant Fortesque, of the 42nd British Foot." We bowed coldly, neither extending a hand, the Captain twisting his moustache as he continued staring at me.
"Fortesque," he repeated slowly.

"Fortesque; not of this garrison, I believe." "No, from New York," coolly.

"I regret having interfered with your programme." "Don't mention it; there are other ladies present, and, no doubt, your gallant act was worthy the reward; a pleasant evening, sir," and he drew aside, stiffly military.

Eager to lose as little as possible of the measure I swung my partner forward, catching glimpse again of the man's face as we circled.
"Pleasant disposition," I ventured, without meaning to be uncivil.
"Oh, very," and her eyes met mine frankly.

"But you must not quarrel with him; that is his one specialty, you know." "Is the warning on your account, or my own ?" "Both, perhaps.