“Awfully,” said the captain. “Quite an edge on.”
“That’s right,” cried Sir John. “Come along. Oh, look here though,” he added, as if upon second thoughts; “I’ve had no experience before in this sort of thing, and I want to get it over, and go on again as usual. I never do anything without telling the major here.”
Rolph bowed, and the major returned his salute stiffly.
“I’ve been telling him about you know what, and it’s all settled now, so you can shake hands, you know.”
“Yes; my brother has told me about your proposal,” said the major, coldly. “You have won a prize, sir, and I wish you joy.”
“Thankye, major, thankye,” cried Rolph, seizing his hand and shaking it violently. “You don’t want to say anything more to me, do you?”
“N-no,” said the major, whose inward thoughts made him look ten years older. “N-no.”
“That’s right,” cried the captain, with a sigh of relief. “Shall we go in to lunch now, Sir John?”
“To be sure, yes, my boy. Go on. I daresay Glynne is waiting. Come along, Jem.”
He took his brother’s arm; and, as the captain disappeared,—