“Tut—tut—tut!” he exclaimed. “Why do I speak of her as gone? What a girl she is! Well, so far so good. Harley makes no objection to my going away. Now let us see what the general will say.”
Doctor Bolter felt that he had his most terrible task to perform in getting leave of his wife, and he returned home with a peculiar sensation of dread.
“It is very strange,” he said; “but I am getting nervous I think. I never feel it at any other time but when I am going to make some proposal to Mrs Bolter.”
To his great discomposure he found the lady within. This might have been looked upon as an advantage but he was not, he said, quite prepared; and he sat listening to her accounts of Mr Perowne’s state, and Grey Stuart’s kindly help. She suddenly turned upon him:
“Henry,” she exclaimed, “You were not thinking, of what I said.”
“I—I beg your pardon, my dear,” he replied. “Of what were you thinking, then?” The doctor hesitated a moment, and then he felt that the time had come for speaking.
“I was thinking, my dear, that no better opportunity is likely to offer for one of my expeditions.”
Mrs Bolter looked at him rather wistfully for a few moments, and then said, with a sigh: “Perhaps not, Henry. You had better go.”
“Do you mean it, Mary?” he said, eagerly. “If you think the station can be left in safety, perhaps you had better go,” she said, quietly. “I will have Grey Stuart to stay with me. I will not stand in your way, Henry, if you wish to leave.”
“It almost seems too bad,” he said, “but I should really like to go for a day or two, Mary. Harley says he can spare me, and no better chance is likely to come than now.”