“Were you fighting?”
“Well, yes,” he said indifferently, “bit of a scrimmage. Nothing to mind. People who preserve often meet with that sort of a thing. I did run against a fellow, though,” he continued, laughing. “But that’s not the sort of running against I meant. I’m going to do a foot-race. Matched against a low sort of fellow.”
“Oh!” said Lucy, looking straight before her.
“Professional, you know; but I’m going to run him—take the conceit out of the cad. Bad thing conceit.”
“Extremely,” said Lucy tightening her lips.
“Horrid. I’m going to give him fifty yards.”
“Oh!” said Lucy, gravely, as she took a step forward without looking at the captain. “But don’t let me hinder you. I was only taking my morning walk.”
“Don’t hinder me a bit,” said the captain. “I was just going to put on the finishing spurt, and end at that cross path. I’ve as good as done it, and I’m in prime condition.”
“Bad thing conceit,” said Lucy to herself.
“Fresh as a daisy.”