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"Has he a taste for fiction?" I asked, with a depreciative smirk.

I dared not retort, but I looked so hard at his paunch that the General smiled. Then he asked me if I knew where we were then camped, and I said we were on the Meadville and Fayette road, near Franklin, twenty miles southeast of Fayette and--

"Clifton?"

"Whose hand was it; that fellow's, yonder?" Oliver was several paces away.

"They were neither of them present, Lieutenant; that hand was Miss Coralie Rothvelt's."

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