“Of course, father, of course.”
“And out all the morning, too! Well, well, fresh air for health.”
“Why don’t you get more then, Linnell?”
“I—I?” said the grave, elderly man slowly. “I don’t know. I don’t want fresh air. I’m very well as I am. I shall do for my time here.”
“Why, father,” said Richard merrily, as he clapped him on the shoulder, “what a tone to take.”
He exchanged a quick, agonised glance with Mellersh, and then proceeded to replace his violin and bow in the case.
“Come to me, Dick,” said the Colonel; “I want to go to my room:” and he went out, busied himself for a few minutes in his bedroom, and then came out again into the hall, to find Mrs Dean disappearing up the staircase, and Cora giving some orders to her little groom.
He waited till she turned and came towards him with a scornful look in her eyes.
“Well,” he said, in a low voice, and with a longing undertook in his eyes that he evidently tried to conceal, “how many poor fellows slain this morning?”
“How many are there here worth slaying?” she said, in the same low tone.