"We are rather a grim party! And yet my old uncle is absolutely the finest man I ever struck."
"I don't wonder that you admire him."
"You don't know what he is, Captain Dollar. He got the V.C. when he was my age in Burmah, but he deserves one for almost every day of his ordinary home life."
Dollar made no remark; the young fellow offered him a cigarette, and was encouraged to light another himself. He required no encouragement to talk.
"The funny thing is that he's not really my uncle. I'm her nephew; and she's a wonderful woman, too, in her way. She runs the whole place like a book; she's thrown away here. But—I can't help saying it—I should like her better if I didn't love him!"
"Talking of books," said Dollar, "the General told me he was writing one, and that you were helping him?"
"He didn't tell you what it was about?"
"No."
"Then I mustn't. I wish I could. It's to be the last word on a certain subject, but he won't have it spoken about. That's one reason why it's getting on his nerves."
"Is it his book?"