‘Nor that either,’ said he, smiling at the other’s persistent curiosity.
‘Then if it be neither the gift of an old love nor a lost friend, I’ll not relinquish it,’ cried Joe.
‘Be it so,’ said Walpole, half carelessly. ‘Mine was a mere caprice after all. It is linked with a reminiscence—there’s the whole of it; but if you care for it, pray keep it.’
‘I do care for it, and I will keep it.’
It was a very peculiar smile that curled Walpole’s lip as he heard this speech, and there was an expression in his eyes that seemed to say, ‘What manner of man is this, what sort of nature, new and strange to me, is he made of?’
‘Bye-bye!’ said Atlee carelessly, and he strolled away.
CHAPTER XV
IN THE GARDEN AT DUSK
When Atlee quitted Walpole’s room, he was far too full of doubt and speculation to wish to join the company in the drawing-room. He had need of time to collect his thoughts, too, and arrange his plans. This sudden departure of his would, he well knew, displease Kearney. It would savour of a degree of impertinence, in treating their hospitality so cavalierly, that Dick was certain to resent, and not less certain to attribute to a tuft-hunting weakness on Atlee’s part of which he had frequently declared he detected signs in Joe’s character.