Kenyon drew a hard breath.
"You've got to be in the room, C. J.!"
"Very well, if they will let me. But you'll never know, Kenyon—you'll know nothing at all about it!"
"They must let you. You've got to hold my hand right through, whether I feel anything or not. See?"
"My dear boy! My brave old fellow!"
"It's a bargain?"
"I'd better go and ask them now."
"Hold on a bit. How you do like to do a bolt! I wish this hadn't come so soon ... there was so much I'd got to tell you ... all what I thought of in the night. You know the game we had, the night before you went, last summer? John would call it Gentlemen and Players; poor old John! I remember every bit of it—especially that leg-hit. It was sweet!. Well, when Ethel got run out, and our side lost—ah! I thought you'd remember—I played the fool, and you told me not to grumble at the umpire's decision. You said life was like cricket, and I mustn't dispute the umpire, but go out grinning——"
"I didn't mean that, Kenyon! You know I didn't! I never thought——"