“Nearly nine. Will you order some breakfast from the tavern?”
“Eh, to be sure. Let’s go. No; afraid you are not well enough. I’ll send Mrs Brade. But no nonsense,” said Guest.
“I give you my word,” said Stratton quietly.
“I take it;” and after a visit to the bedroom Guest came back, looking refreshed and ready to go out and order the meal to be brought.
In due time this was at the door, and, to the young barrister’s great satisfaction, his friend drank a cup of coffee, and ate sparingly of some dry toast, looking every minute more and more himself.
There were moments when his face twitched and his eyes looked strange; but that Guest set down to the pain of his wound; and in the course of the morning, feeling more and more relieved, he said:
“Look here, old fellow, I think if you’ll give me your word of honour there shall be no nonsense, I’ll go back to my place and change,”—he glanced at his wedding garments as he spoke.
“Yes, I would,” said Stratton quietly.
“You are not going to be ill?”
“Certainly not.”