“What’s the matter?” I said.
“Oh, go on,” he whispered; “make much of it. You did that on purpose just now.”
“What, when you went down?” I said eagerly. “I didn’t, really.”
“All right; I’m not blind, and I’m not a fool. Of course we’re the favourite, and everything is to give way to us; but never mind, my lad, every dog has his day.”
I looked at him with a feeling of wonder that any one could be so thoroughly disagreeable, so determined to look at everything from a wrong point of view, and then I laughed, for it seemed to be utterly absurd that he should misconstrue even that look, for he exclaimed viciously—
“That’s right, grin away, my lad; but the day may come when you’ll laugh the wrong side of your mouth.”
“Why, what a chap you are, Nic!” I whispered. “I never saw such a fellow. Come, let’s be friends; I’m sure I want to.”
“And I don’t, with a miserable sneak who is always trying to undermine me with people.”
“Under-grandmother you,” I said in a low voice, so that Miss Denning should not hear. “Don’t talk such stuff.”
“Go on. Insult me as much as you like,” he whispered back: “I shan’t say anything. You’re setting everybody against me, so that instead of being friends, as a young officer should with his equals, I’m obliged to go and talk to the men.”