"So it was only the girl that was on your nerves?" said Dalrymple in disgust.
"And wasn't that enough? If I'm a different man to-day, you know the reason why. As for being happy in my position, and all that, I'm simply in paradise at this moment. Think of it! Think of me as I was, and look at me as I am; think of my little hut on Carara, and look behind you at Maske Towers!"
They were on the terrace now, leaning idly against the balustrade. Dalrymple turned and looked: like Melrose Abbey, the grand grey building was at its best in the "pale moonlight"; the lichened embrasures met the soft sky softly; the piercing spires were sheathed in darkness; and the mountainous pile wore one uniform tint, from which the lighted windows stood out like pictures on a wall. Dalrymple looked, and looked again; then his hard eyes fell upon the rude ecstasy of the face beside him; and they were less hard than before.
"You may make yourself easy," said the squatter. "I shan't stay long."
"What the blazes do you mean?" cried Jack. "I want you to stay as long as ever you can."
"You may; your friends do not."
"Hang my friends!"
"I should enjoy nothing better; but it isn't practicable. Besides, they're a good deal more than your friends now; they are—her people. And they don't like the man who was once your boss; he offends their pride——"
"Mr. Dalrymple——"
"Enough said, my boy. I know my room, and I'm going to turn in. We'll talk it over again in the morning; but my mind is made up. Good-night!"