"No, you have n't; you 've been like a clam so far as telling me anything about their looks, or age, or--or anything--" "Oh, own up, now; you mean you want to know if they 're married or single?" He was beginning to tease. "Of course I do. This old manor has had a good many surprises for me already in these three weeks, you, for one--" He threw back his head, laughing heartily. "--And the 'elderly Scotchwoman', and Cale for a third; and if you would give me a hint as to the matrimonial standing of the two from over-seas, I should feel fortified against any future petticoat invasion of their wives, or children, or sweethearts." Jamie laughed uproariously. "Oh, Guy Mannering, hear her! I thought you said you saw Doctor Rugvie in the hospital." "So I did; but it was only a glimpse, and a long way off, as he was passing through another ward." He turned to me quickly. "It's Doctor Rugvie you want to know about then? Why about him, rather than Ewart?" "Because,--('Be cautious,' I warned myself),--I happen to have known of him." "Well, fire away, and I 'll answer to the best of my knowledge. I believe a woman lives, moves and has her being in details," he said a little scornfully. "Have you just found that out?" I retorted. "Well, you have n't cut all your wisdom teeth yet. And now, as you seem to think it's Doctor Rugvie I 'm most interested in, we 'll begin with your Mr. Ewart." I changed my tactics, for I feared I had shown too much eagerness for information about Doctor Rugvie. "My Mr. Ewart!" He smiled to himself in a way that exasperated me. "Yes, your Mr. Ewart. How old is he? For all you 've told me he might be a grandfather." "Ewart--a grandfather!" Again he laughed, provokingly as I thought. I kept silence. "Honestly, Marcia, I don't know Ewart's age, and"--he was suddenly serious--"for all I know, he may be a grandfather." "For all you know! What do you mean by that?" "I mean I never seriously gave Gordon Ewart's age a thought. When I am with him he seems, somehow, as young as I--younger in one way, for he has such splendid health. But I suppose he really is old enough to be my father--forty-five or six, possibly; I don't know." "Is he married?" Jamie brought his hand down upon his knee with such a whack that the old cart-horse gave a queer hop-skip-and-jump. We both laughed at his antic. "There you have me, Marcia. I 'm floored in your first round of questions. I don't know exactly--" "Exactly! It seems to me that, marriage being an exact science, if a man is married why he is--and no ifs and buts." "That's so." Jamie spoke seriously and nodded wisely. "I never heard it put in just those words, 'exact science', but come to think of it, you 're right." "Well, is he?" "Is he what?" "Married. Are we to expect later on a Mrs. Ewart at Lamoral?" "Great Scott, no!" said Jamie emphatically. "Look here, Marcia, I hate to tell tales that possibly, and probably, have no foundation--"