"No," said Evan fiercely. "Come along;" and Lord Semingham went, exclaiming inwardly, "A girl!"
"I'm the most miserable devil alive," said Evan, as they left the Horse Guards on the right hand.
Semingham put up his eyeglass.
"I've always regarded you as the favourite of fortune," he said. "What's the matter?"
The matter unfolded itself some half-hour after they had reached the Row and sat down. It came forth with difficulty; pride obstructed the passage, and something better than pride made the young man diffuse in the telling of his trouble. Lord Semingham grew very grave indeed. Let who would laugh at happy lovers, he had a groan for the unfortunate—a groan with reservations.
"She said she liked me very much, but didn't feel—didn't, you know, look up to me enough, and so on," said poor Evan in puzzled pain. "I—I can't think what's come over her. She used to be quite different. I don't know what she means by talking like that."
Lord Semingham played a tune on his knee with the fingers of one hand. He was waiting.
"Young Val's gone back on me too," moaned Evan, who took the brother's deposal of him hardly more easily than the sister's rejection. Suddenly he brightened up; a smile, but a bitter one, gleamed across his face.
"I think I've put one spoke in his wheel, though," he said.
"Ruston's?" inquired Semingham, still playing his tune.