Aubrey Cooke was not at his best with Gibson; the two men had too little in common. But he was a clever fellow. He had a plain, silly face, a bitter tongue, and a manner which found favor with most women. He adored women. Those, however, he worshiped the most deferentially would scarcely have approved of the manner in which he spoke of them among other men in their absence, for there was a strong dash of young Paris in his adoration. He was too shrewd to make many mistakes; and no man knew better the exact tone in which to address any particular woman of his large and varied acquaintance. He bore Miss Langton no ill-will for repeated unmerited snubs; the caprices of women are infinite, prettier and less prim women abounded, and he could revenge himself so easily by an epigram--not a slanderous one, but none the less cutting--in the dressing-room. When Annie first recognized Colonel Richardson as he crossed the road toward her, her impulse was to walk on; but anxiety to hear something about the family at the Elms changed her intention, and she stopped, shook hands with him, and allowed him to walk down the street with her. “I knew you the moment you came on,” said he. “It was a happy thought to go on the stage; I admire your courage.” “I don’t think it was courage that sent me on; and at present I have had no reason to congratulate myself on my attempt, I assure you. Did Mrs. Falconer know me?” “No. She did not care for the piece, and was not paying much attention to it. She does not know you are on the stage, for she told me she thought you had become a governess somewhere. You have done better than that.” “Yes. And the rest of the Braithwaites? Have you seen any of them since your return?” “No; but Mrs. Falconer gives a very bad account of some of them.” “What does she say? Tell me quickly, please.” “It seems there have been quarrels among the brothers lately, about money matters, I believe. Sir George and Harry are the chief disputants, and Mrs. Falconer never knows what the next news about them may be. But I am paining you----” “No, no; I want to hear everything. Will you tell me all you know about my husband? Is he well? Is he no steadier?” “I believe he is well now; but he was ill some months ago.” “Ill. What was the matter with him?” Colonel Richardson hesitated. “You know his habits are rather irregular, and he had ridden too much and excited himself too much, and I believe he was ill from the effects of overexcitement. But why do you wish to know these things? You are happily spared the wrangles and disturbances of that unlucky household now. You have the interest of your own career to occupy your mind; it is much better for you not to concern yourself any more with the doings of that barbaric crew.”