He bowed ceremoniously to Cary, who returned the salute. Each moved from where he had stood, and the tide at Lynch's came between them. There was some questioning, some excited speech, some natural disappointment at matters going no further. It was not clearly understood what offence had been given or what taken, but many felt aggrieved by the check on the threshold of a likely affair. However, it was, they could concede, the business of the two principals, each of whom could afford to ignore any seeming reflection upon his unreadiness to pick up the glove--if a glove had been thrown. As the assemblage broke up and flowed homeward, the most pertinent comment, perhaps, was that of the down-river planter: "If 'twas just a breeze, and all over, why didn't they shake hands? Gad! when I was young and we fell out and made up over the wine, we went roaring home arm over shoulder! Your manners are too cold. A bow is nothing--one can bow to a villain! Men of honour, when the quarrel's over, should shake hands!" "Precisely," said his companion, who chanced to be Mr. Wickham. "They are men of honour; they didn't shake hands. _Ergo_ the quarrel's not over!--Here we are at the Eagle." CHAPTER XVII FAIRFAX AND UNITY "Bah!" exclaimed Major Churchill. "Long ago Hamilton said the last word on the subject. Aaron Burr's sole political principle is to _mount_. The Gazette says he has started West--gone, I'll swear, to light the fuse." "Then I hope the mine will blow up under him," said Fairfax Cary. "Can you tell me, sir, if Miss Dandridge is at home?" The Major looked over the top of his Gazette. "Miss Dandridge is sitting beneath the catalpa tree." The other made a movement towards the door. "Mr. Page is with her. He is reading aloud--Eloïsa to Abelard, or some such impassioned stuff. Don't apologize! I have no objection to expletives." The younger Cary laid down his hat, took a chair with great deliberation, and flecked his boot with his riding-whip. "The catalpa shall be sacred for me. Eloïsa to Abelard! Is it a long poem, sir?" "It is longer than its author was. Sentimental rubbish!" Major Edward folded the Gazette with his one hand, laid it on the library table, and leaned back in his leather chair. "It is not my opinion that Unity cares for Mr. Page. She cares for what many men and an occasional woman have cared for--liberty." "I would give her liberty." "She may possibly prefer it," said the Major dryly, "first hand." The young man laughed ruefully. "So little liberty as she has left me! I am bound hand and foot to her chariot wheels. There's nothing I wouldn't do for her, short of hearing Page read aloud." "You'll win in the end, I think. And I hope you may. Unity Dandridge is wilful, but she is a fine woman." "The finest in the world--the most beautiful--the most sparkling--the most loyal--"