"Do vou mean you are going to stay here tonight?"
"Did you think I was here on leave? I tell you I am on service. Don't you believe me?"
Peyrol let out a heavy sigh. "Yes, I believe you. And so they are thinking of catching her alive. And you are sent on service. Well, that doesn't make it any easier for me to see you here."
"You are a strange man, Peyrol," said the lieutenant. "I believe you wish me dead."
"No. Only out of this. But you are right, Peyrol is no friend either to your face or to your voice. They have done harm enough already."
They had never attained to such intimate terms before. There was no need for them to look at each other. The lieutenant thought: "Ah! He can't keep his jealousy in." There was no scorn or malice in that thought. It was much more like despair. He said mildly:
"You snarl like an old dog, Peyrol."
"I have felt sometimes as if I could fly at your throat," said Peyrol in a sort of calm whisper. "And it amuses you the more."
"Amuses me? Do I look light-hearted?"
Again Peyrol turned his head slowly for a long, steady stare. And again the naval officer and the rover gazed at each other with a searching and sombre frankness. This new-born intimacy could go no further.