"Well?" said Scott. He stiffened a little at the hold upon him, but he did not attempt to frustrate it.
"Only this." Eustace pressed upon him as one who would convey a warning. "You've interfered with me more than once lately, and I've borne with it—more or less patiently. But I'm not going to bear with it much longer. You may be useful to me, but—you're not indispensable. Remember that!"
Scott started at the words, as a well-bred horse starts at the flicker of the whip. He controlled himself instantly, but his eyelids quivered a little as he answered, "I will remember it."
Sir Eustace's hand fell. "I think that is all that need be said," he observed. "We will get to business."
He turned from the window, but in the same moment Scott wheeled also and took him by the arm. "One moment!" he said. "Eustace, we are not going to quarrel over this. You don't imagine, do you, that I interfere with you in this way for my own pleasure?"
He spoke urgently, an odd wistfulness in voice and gesture.
Sir Eustace paused. The sternness still lingered in his eyes though his face softened somewhat as he said, "I haven't gone into the question of motives, Stumpy. I have no doubt they are—like yourself—very worthy, though it might not soothe me greatly to know what they are."
Scott still held his arm. "Oh, man," he said very earnestly, "don't miss the best thing in life for want of a little patience! She's such a child. She doesn't understand. For your own sake give her time!"
There was that in his tone that somehow made further offence impossible. A faint, half-grudging smile took the place of the grimness on his brother's face.
"You take things so mighty seriously," he said. "What's the matter? What has she been saying?"