“Well, you can always command mine—on the quiet of course—and I shan’t be in the least put out if you don’t agree with it. Now I can see you’re longing to get back to your job, so I’ll saddle up.”
“Er—the fact is, I’ve got a lot of these tin-pot cases to worry through—so I’ll get you to excuse me. By the way, Thornhill, I’m going to take you at your word, and invade you on Sunday. I’m beastly all-by-myself here when there’s no work. How does that pan out?”
“Any number of ounces to the ton. Come as early as you like, and, there’s a bed for you, if you don’t want to get back here till next morning. Good Lord, Elvesdon, when I think of—”
“But, don’t ‘think of’,” interrupted the other, hurriedly. “Very well. So long—till Sunday.”
Thornhill’s horse had been brought round, and as he got into the saddle Elvesdon turned away to the Court house. And the latter as he got there, felt as if he was treading on air. Yet why should he—why the devil should he?—he kept unconsciously asking himself.
Thornhill, passing the clerk’s quarters, saw the latter just coming out.
“Hallo, Prior!” he hailed. “Good-bye, I’m off.”
The young man came over to him.
“Good-bye, Mr Thornhill,” he said. “You don’t often look us up in these days.”
“You don’t often look me up, Prior, for the matter of that.”