"And this gentleman ?" he went on, turning to a young replica of the older man, who had stepped to his father's side.
"Is my son, Captain Frank Yeovil, of King George's Fifty-second Light Infantry.

By gad, I am glad to have him make your acquaintance.

He is going to marry the Marquis' niece here--your old friend--when they can settle on a day.

You had thoughts in that direction yourself, I remember," he went on, in his bluff way, "but I suppose you have got bravely over them by now," he laughed.
"I have resigned myself to the inevitable, monsieur," answered Marteau with a calmness that he did not feel.
He did not dare to look at the Countess Laure as he spoke.

He could not have commanded himself if he had done so.