He was a thin old man, a wreck in a ruined body, but nothing would induce him to stand in any other way than as stiffly erect as possible like the soldier he had always been, even though he was obliged to lean on his silver-handled cane to do so. A faint anticipation of triumph showed in his manner and a subdued excitement. “Who are you?” She asked innocently. "The only disguise I ever put on is a dress-suit, and I look as natural as a pig at a Mahomedan dinner. We meant to make it dinner and a theatre, but you were not home.
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