"That's all very well," was the answer. "But what about those?" With his cigar he indicated vaguely the boxes.
"Those? Not yet all packed, are they? Lazy beggars, your London servants, just before leaving you!" he laughed.
"See here!" Forsythe looked at him. "You're not well enough yet to--"
"Never felt better!"
"No chance to get you to change your mind, I suppose?"
"Not in the least!"
For a few moments Forsythe said nothing; then, "Weed?" he asked, offering Steele a cigar.
"Don't believe I'll begin just yet a while."
"Oh!" significantly. "Quite fit, eh?" Forsythe's tone sounded, in the least, scoffing; John Steele went to the window; stood with his back to it. A short time passed; the military man puffed more quickly. It seemed the irony of fate, or friendship, that now that he was just beginning to get better acquainted with Steele the latter should inconsistently determine to leave London.
"Anything I can do for you when you're away?" began Captain Forsythe. "Command me, if there is. Needn't say--"