“Oh, every man to his taste,” said the host; “but I believe in a man feeding himself up, and not starving himself down.”
“Oilcake and turnips, eh?”
“Yes, both good things in their way, but I like the chemical components to have taken other forms, Rob, my boy; good Highland Scots beef and Southdown mutton.”
“I hope you will be able to indulge in a good dinner, Rolph?” said the major, looking at the young officer as if he amused him.
“Trust me for that, major,” replied the young man loudly. “I’m not bad at table.”
“I thought, perhaps,” said the major sarcastically, “that you might be in training, and forbidden to eat anything but raw steak and dry biscuit.”
“Oh, dear, no,” said Rolph seriously. “Quite free now, major, quite free.”
“That’s a blessing,” muttered Sir John, who looked annoyed and fidgety. “Hah, dinner at last.”
“Walking makes me hungry and impatient, Miss Alleyne. Come along, you are my property. First lady.”
He held out his arm, and, as Lucy laid her little hand upon it, he went out of the drawing-room chatting merrily; and, as he did so, Rolph leaped from his seat, and drew himself upright as if to display the breadth of his chest and the size of his muscles.