Nor did he, for some time, even so much as look at me, but bent his head down till I could only catch the fore-shortened profile of forehead, nose, and curly beard. Certainly, though a moustache is mean, puppyish, intolerable, and whiskers not much better, there is something fine and manly in a regular Oriental beard. Doctor Urquhart spoke at last. "So, as I overheard you say to Mrs. Granton, you 'hate soldiers.' 'Hate' is a strong word--for a Christian woman." My own weapons turned upon me. "Yes, I hate soldiers because my principles, instincts, observations, confirm me in the justice of my dislike. In peace, they are idle, useless, extravagant, cumberers of the country--the mere butterflies of society. In war--you know what they are." "Do I?" with a slight smile. I grew rather angry. "In truth, had I ever had a spark of military ardour, it would have been quenched within the last year. I never see a thing--we'll not say a man--with a red coat on, who does not make himself thoroughly contempt--" The word stuck in the middle. For lo! there passed slowly by, my sister Lisabel; leaning on the arm of Captain Treherne, looking as I never saw Lisabel look before. It suddenly rushed across me what might happen--perhaps had happened. Suppose, in thus passionately venting my prejudices, I should be tacitly condemning my--what an odd idea!--my brother-in-law? Pride, if no better feeling, caused me to hesitate. Doctor Urquart said, quietly enough, "I should tell you--indeed I ought to have told you before--that I am myself in the army." I am sure I looked--as I felt--like a downright fool. This comes, I thought, of speaking one's mind, especially to strangers. Oh! should I ever learn to hold my tongue, or gabble pretty harmless nonsense as other girls? Why should I have talked seriously to this man at all? I knew nothing of him, and had no business to be interested in him, or even to have listened to him--my sister would say,--until he had been "properly introduced;"--until I knew where he lived, and who were his father and mother, and what was his profession, and how much income he had a-year? Still, I did feel interested, and could not help it. Something it seemed that I was bound to say; I wished it to be civil, if possible. "But you are Doctor Urquhart. An army-surgeon is scarcely like a soldier: his business is to save life rather than to destroy it. Surely _you_ never could have killed anybody?" The moment I had put the question, I saw how childish and uncalled-for, in fact, how actually impertinent it was. Covered with confusion, I drew back, and looked another way. It was the greatest relief imaginable when just then Lisabel saw me, and came up with Captain Treherne, all smiles, to say, was it not the pleasantest party imaginable? and who had I been dancing with? "Nobody." "Nay, I saw you myself, talking to some strange gentleman. Who was he? A rather odd-looking person, and--" "Hush, please. It was a Doctor Urquhart."