“Is it a pretty uniform?”
“I tell you the offer tempts me,” retorted Vickers.
Overton rose, too. “My dear fellow,” he said, “of course you are going to accept it. Heaven knows I shall be sorry to see you leave Hilltop, but no good will come of your staying. Go to-night—at once. Be on the safe side. Let me see.” He drew out his watch. “The last train has gone a few minutes since, on this road, but there is a branch about five miles from here that has a train about ten. You can catch that. Get into my trap, and I’ll drive you over there with one of my trotters.”
“Why the deuce should I go to-night?” said Vickers, stepping back as if to avoid Overton’s enthusiasm.
“The sooner the better. If you don’t go now, how do we know you will ever go?”
Vickers did not look at his friend. “At least,” he said, “I must go back to the house and get my things.”
“My dear man, she won’t be up at this time of night.”
“I don’t expect to see her. I don’t even know that I want to see her again. But I must get some money and clothes. I won’t trouble you. I’ll walk the five miles.” He moved toward the door.
Overton held out his hand. “Good-by,” he said with a good deal of feeling.
“Good-by, sir,” said Vickers, and he added: “By the way, did you believe that story of mine?”