"I did think of it when you first spoke of going to France, you know," said Dick, in a justification of himself that seemed more for his own ease than Raven's. "I didn't believe you could pull it off, a man of your years. You took it so easy! You never turned a hair. But I might have known you'd have to pay for it afterward."
"What is it I've taken so admirably?" asked Raven. "What is it I've got to pay for?"
"Why," said Dick, "your slogging over there—a man of your age——"
"Well," said Raven curtly, cracking his voice at him in a way Dick had never had to take from him, "how is it I'm paying? What's the matter with me?"
"Why," said Dick, in a perfect innocence of any offense in it, "don't you know? You've seen enough of it. I should think you'd be the first to know."
Raven simply looked at him. Dick had a feeling that his uncle was about to roar out something, and braced himself for the unbelievable event. However, it would not surprise him. That, he knew, was a part of it. But Raven was putting his question again, smoothly and tolerantly, as if to assure him there was time enough to make a well considered reply:
"Just what, in your opinion, is the matter with me?"
"Why," said Dick, that innocent gaze still upon him, "shell shock."
Raven jumped. Every nerve in him seemed to give a little twitch of pure surprise with every other.
"O Lord!" said he. "Who could ever have expected that? It's worse than I thought."