“We didn’t go regularly for a walk. We went to see Professor Barclay.”
“Mr Morris took you to see Professor Barclay?” said Glyn.
“Yes, yes; but I wish you wouldn’t keep on questioning me so.”
“Well, I want to know,” said Glyn quietly. “You don’t speak out and tell me, so I am obliged to ask.”
“Well,” said Singh gloomily, “I want to be open and tell you; but you are such a queer fellow.”
“Yes, I am,” said Glyn, looking hard at his companion.
“Well, so you are,” said Singh half-angrily; “and you are so fond of finding fault with me and not liking what I do.”
“I don’t know that I should have minded your going to see Professor Barclay,” said Glyn slowly, “especially if you went with Mr Morris.”
“No, you oughtn’t to,” cried Singh hastily. “Mr Morris said that it would be a kindness to go and see the poor gentleman, for he is a gentleman and a great scholar.”
“So I suppose,” said Glyn, “in Sanskrit.”