His face was overcast as he spoke, and he frowned heavily, while Reed noticed the sad, careworn aspect of the man, who looked as if he had suffered from some terrible trouble—that which had so deeply lined his face. But it brightened up again directly, as Reed hung back to admire the lovely meandering stream.
“You do like it?” said the Major.
“Like it, my dear sir! If I were not a busy man, bound to go on carving my way, it is just the place where I should like to come and dream away my days.”
“Do you care for fishing?”
“Oh yes.”
“Then, as we are neighbours, if you come much to the mine, I shall at any time be glad to show you a few good places where you can throw a fly.”
“Some day I shall certainly ask you,” said Reed frankly; “not often, I have no time.”
“Whenever you like, and you will be welcome, Mr Reed; for—excuse me—I like you.”
“So soon,” said Reed, raising his eyebrows.
“The liking of one man for another comes at once, sir, I think, and seldom errs,” said the Major gravely. “You will be welcome if you can content yourself with cottage fare and our simplicity. This is my little home.”