“Mustn’t mind our running away from you so much, Trevor,” continued Vanleigh, with a smile, which the former felt carried a sneer, and an allusion to his own playing of the absentee. “Fact is, the old gentleman seems to be rather taken with Flick here.”
“’Sure you, no,” said Sir Felix, excitedly; “it’s the other way, Trevor. Makes no end of Van, showing him over grounds, asking ’vice, you know, and that sort of thing.”
“I am glad you find the place so much more agreeable than you expected,” said Trevor, gravely.
“Never s’ jolly in m’ life, Trevor,” said Sir Felix, excitedly, and speaking nervously and fast. “Fine old fellow, S’ Hampton. Fitting up b’liard-room. ’L have game after come back.”
“Take another cigar,” said Trevor, and his voice was very deep, as he seemed now to be exerting himself all that he could to make up for his past neglect to those whom he had invited down as his friends. “Vanleigh, you are taking nothing.”
“I’m doing admirably, dear boy,” said the captain, in the most affectionate of tones; and then to himself—“What does that little cad mean by watching me as he does?”
He smiled pleasantly, though, all the while, and when, to pass the time away, and conceal his trouble, Trevor once more proposed cards, the captain condescended to take “that little cad” as his partner, and between them they won fifty pounds of Trevor and Sir Felix—the latter throwing the cards petulantly down, and vowing he would play no more.
“Good night, dear boy,” said Vanleigh, rising and yawning a few minutes after smilingly taking his winnings. “It’s past one, and we shall be having our respected friend, Mrs Lloyd, to send us to bed.”
A sharp retort was on Trevor’s lip, but he checked it, and with a courtesy that was grave in spite of his efforts, wished him good night, saying—
“There is no fear of that; Mrs Lloyd and I understand each other pretty well now.”