“I’m sure he loves you, ’Roo—sure he does.”
“Ask him.”
Jack looked at Richard and made him a sharp, angry sign with his brows, as if bidding him comply.
“You love our one-and-only Kangaroo all right, don’t you, Mr Somers?” he said in a manly, take-it-for-granted voice.
“I have an immense regard for him,” muttered Richard.
“Regard! I should think so. We’ve got more than regard. I love the man—love him—love him I do. Don’t I, ’Roo?”
But Kangaroo had sunk down, and his face had gone small, he was oblivious again.
“Yes, all right,” said Jack, rising from bending over the sick man. Somers had already gone to the door. The nurse entered, and the two men found themselves in the dark passage.
“I shall have to be coming along, Mr Somers, if you’ll wait a minute,” said Jack.