"Perhaps not. Still, I hate this place now. I'm sick of it. By the way, Stanninghame, you're the sort a fellow can tell anything to; you don't start a lot of cheap blatant chaff as some chappies do when you want them to talk sound sense."
There was a great deal underlying the remark, also the tone. Though lacking the elements which go to make up the "popular" man, Laurence possessed the faculty of winning the devoted attachment of individuals, and that to an extent of which he himself little dreamed. Not the least important item which went to make up that attribute lay in the fact that he was a most indulgent listener, whom nothing astonished, and who could look at all sides of any given question with the tact and toleration of a man who thinks. This faculty he seldom exercised, and then almost unconsciously.
To the other's remark he made no immediate reply. Taking into consideration age and temperament, he had no belief that Holmes' rejection and disappointment had left any deep wound. Still, it had come at an unfortunate time—a time when the sufferer, in common with most of them, had been hard hit in a more material way. He had a genuine liking for the sunny-natured, open-hearted youth; a liking begotten, it might be, of the ingenuously unconscious manner in which the latter looked up to him, in fact, made a sort of elder brother of him. Holmes was no stronger-headed than most youngsters of his temperament and circumstances, and Laurence did not want to see him—soured and dejected by disappointment all round—throw himself in with the reckless, indiscriminate bar-frequenter, of whom there were not lacking woeful examples in those days, though, poor fellows, much from the same motive, to drown care; and into this current would Holmes in all probability be swept if left by himself in Johannesburg. Was there no method of taking him with them for a month or two's shoot in the bush-veldt, and sending him back by some returning expedition before the serious part of the undertaking was entered upon? He decided to sound Hazon upon the matter, yet of this resolve he said nothing now to Holmes. The latter broke the silence.
"By Jove, Stanninghame, I envy you!" he said. "You are such a hard-headed chap. Why, I don't believe you care a little d—— for any mortal thing in the world. Yes, I envy you."
"You needn't, if it means hankering after the process by which that blissful state is attained. But you are wrong. I care most infernally about one thing."
"And what's that? What is it, old chap? You needn't be afraid I'll let on!" said Holmes eagerly, anticipating it might be something similar in the way of a confidence to that which his own exuberant heart had not been able to refrain from making.
"Why, that I was stewed idiot enough to go on investing in this infernal scrip instead of clearing out just when I had made the modest profit of four hundred per cent."
"Oh!" said the other, in disappointed surprise, adding, "But you don't show it. You take it smiling, Stanninghame. You don't turn a hair."
"H'm!"
With the ejaculation, Laurence was thinking of a certain room, shaded from the glare of the sunlight without, and of a very grim moment indeed. He was looking, too, at the hearty, bright-mannered youngster who had already begun to forget his recent disappointment in the prospect of adventure and novelty. He himself had been nearly as light-hearted, just as ready to mirth and laughter at that age. Yet now? Would it be the same with this one? Who could say?