Really he might have been the colonel of a cavalry regiment rising to toast the Queen after he had sent round the wine, so polite and polished was his talk.

Who could have identified the man with the dry old ruffian of twenty-four hours before, he who was drinking claret (and very good claret too) mixed with water and listening with a polite interest to all the details of his daughter's journey?
Even the doctor looked a gentleman, which doubtless he was once upon a time, in evening dress.

Moreover, some kind of truce had been arranged.

He no longer called Miss Heda "My dear" or attempted any familiarities, while she on more than one occasion very distinctly called him Dr.Rodd.
So much for that night and for several others that followed.

As for the days they went by pleasantly and idly.