Tom Anderson, Dare-Devil: A Young Virginian in the Revolution — page 239: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

My Lorp RAWpoN AND THE RuntTy REBEL 221 certain Southern officers to take up quarters in the city. I am one of them. 5o I’m within limits here — being an ‘oppidan’ instead of a Haddrell’s-Pointer,” with a gleam in the grave black eyes. [he De Berrien eyes were a survival of St. Bartholomew’s Night. “Cool as an iced cucumber,” thought the baronet. He looked at the signature again. “*McIntosh’s Army’ — McIntosh! Always McIntosh!’ ‘Blood will tell, sir,’’ responded the American, glancing at the card which had been handed to him, bearing the two words “lhe McIntosh.” Somehow Sir Atneas was finding this interview much more difficult than he had meant it to be. “T sought this interview, Captain Anderson, to say cer- tain things to you.” An ominous pause. “That Rebel song, sung in the hearing of His Mayjesty’s officers, was an insult to them.”’ “You forget, sir, that | knew nothing about your being in the house.” “My carriage was at the door — “T have n it the pleasure of an acquaintance with your coach horses.” “By whose leave do you come here — singing Rebel songs under these windows — to Miss Elliott?’? He had intended to avoid mentioning the fair firebrand’s name, but his temper was rising. “Not without the consent of the big mastiff in the back yard, you may be sure! But when I sing songs in the drawing-room, it 1s by invitation.’ “Do you mean to tell me — “I mean to tell you nothing, sir A‘neas, about the young lady you mention.’ “How dare you, an American prisoner, speak in such terms to me?” “I’m an American prisoner, completely in your power. But the young mistress of Marley 1s not under military censorship. I won’t talk of her, to you.’ A breathless pause. CORNICIO® SS (CO) im