"Why not?"
Leycester stopped and put his hand on his arm, and looked at him with a feverish smile on his face.
"Simply because I cannot—I cannot. I hate the sight of a green field. I hate the country. Heaven! go down there! Charlie, you know dogs can't bear the sight of water when they are queer. You've got a river down there, haven't you? Well, the sight of that river, the sound of that stream, would drive me mad! I cannot go, but you shall."
Lord Charles shook his head.
"Very well. Where now! Let us go home."
Leycester stopped short.
"Good-night," he said. "Go home. Don't be foolish, Charlie—go home."
"And you!"
Leycester put his hand on his arm slowly, and looked round.
"Not home," he said—"not yet. I'm wakeful to-night."