“Couldn’t sleep,” responded Alec, a trifle sheepishly.
“Ah!” Roger stopped and scrutinised his companion’s face closely. “I shall have to study you, Alec, you know. Awfully sorry if it’s going to inconvenience you; but there’s my duty to the great British public, and that’s plain enough, my interesting young lover. So now perhaps you’ll tell me the real reason why you’re polluting this excellent garden with your unseemly presence at this unnecessary hour?”
“Oh, stow it, you blighter!” growled the interesting young lover, blushing hotly.
Roger regarded him with close attention.
“Notes on the habits of the newly engaged animal, male genus,” he murmured softly. “One—reverses all its habits and instincts by getting up and seeking fresh air when it might still be frowsting in bed. Two—assaults its closest friends without the least provocation. Three—turns a bright brick-red when asked the simplest question. Four——”
“Will you shut up, or have I got to throw you into a rose bed?” shouted the harassed Alec.
“I’ll shut up,” said Roger promptly. “But only on William’s account; please understand that. I feel that William would simply hate to see me land on one of his cherished rose bushes. It would depress him more than ever, and I shrink from contemplating what that might mean. In passing, how is it that you were coming from the direction of the lodge just now and not from the house?”
“You’re infernally curious this morning,” Alec smiled. “If you want to know, I’ve been down to the village.”
“So early? Alec, there must be something wrong with you, after all. And why on earth have you been down to the village?”
“To—well, if you must have it, to post a letter,” said Alec reluctantly.