Bunny, with a cigarette between his lips, turned and laughed at him without a hint of discomfiture. "All right, boss. I'll come," he said, and linked his arm in Jake's with boyish friendliness.
He was half-a-head taller than Jake, but the look of power that was so apparent in the older man was wholly absent in him. He moved his long limbs with a loose swing that lacked energy though it seemed to denote a certain restlessness.
"Wonder what you'll do without me here when I go to Charlie," he remarked, as Jake did not immediately speak.
"I should say the sooner you go the better," said Jake rather brutally, "if I were only sure you were going to the right place."
"Have a smoke!" said Bunny with unruffled amiability, proffering his case.
Jake pushed it from him with a curt sound of dissatisfaction.
"All right. Don't!" said Bunny, with instant haughtiness, and returned it to his pocket.
He would have withdrawn his hand from his brother-in-law's arm, but Jake retained it there forcibly, steering for his own private office at the end of the stable-yard.
Bunny submitted, but his face grew ominously dark as they passed in silence between the long rows of loose-boxes in the soft spring twilight. As they neared Jake's room he drew himself together with the action of a man who braces his muscles for a sudden strain, and in a moment he was older, less defiant, more dignified.
"That's better," Jake said, making him enter first. "There are times, Sir Bernard Brian, when I want to lick you, as you never—unfortunately—were licked in your early youth. Other times—like the present—when the breed gets the better of me, and I can only stand outside—and admire."