"Larst month," he said, "you and the governor was brothers. Now persons don't have to ask me is he your father. It's written in his fyce. It's this country life as has done it. Noisy, I calls it. No rest."
Lewis felt penitent. He suggested to Leighton a day together, a tramp and a picnic, but Leighton shook his head.
"I don't want to have to talk," he said bluntly.
"Dad," said Lewis, "let's go away."
Leighton started as though the words were something he had too long waited for.
"Go away?" he repeated. How often had he said, "To go away is the sovereign cure." "Yes," he went on, "I believe you are right. I think it's high time—past time—for me to clear. Will you come or stay?"
"I'll come if it's London," said Lewis, smiling.
"London first, of course," said Leighton, gravely. "To-day is Tuesday. Say we start on Thursday. That gives us a day to go over and say good-by."
"One day isn't enough," said Lewis. "Make it two."
"All right," agreed Leighton.