One feels that a hero should be a man of terrible
passions, so strong that once or twice in his life they get away from
him. Washington always seems a bigger man because of his blast at
Charles Lee."
The young man seemed interested by this point of view. He said that he
would ask Mrs. Beauregard about it.
Not much later he said with a sigh: "Well!--It's about over. And now I
must pay for my fun--duck back to the office for a special night
session."
Queed had taken a vague fancy to this youth, whose enviably pleasant
manners reminded him somehow of Charles Gardiner West. "I supposed that
it was only in newspaper offices that work went on without regard to
holidays."
The young man laughed, and held out his hand. "I'm very industrious, if
you please. I'm delighted to have met you, Mr. Queed--I've known of you
for a long time. My name's Byrd--Beverley Byrd--and I wish you'd come
and see me some time. Good-by. I hope I haven't bored you with all my
war-talk. I lost a grandfather and three uncles in it, and I can't help
being interested."
The last of the parade went by; the dense crowd broke and overran the
street; and Queed stood upon the bottom step taking his leave of Miss
Weyland.
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