Chapter Thirty Three.
A horrible Suggestion.
Only a few frowns from the admiral and a severe shake of the head over their wine a day or two later, as, in obedience to a summons more than an invitation, Guest dined with him and his sister, Edie having her dinner with her cousin in Myra’s room.
“I felt as if I ought to say a deal to you, young man,” growled the admiral; “but poor Myra has given me my orders, and I must be mum. Take some more wine.”
Guest took some more claret with pleasure, and thought that the subject was to be changed, but it was not, for Sir Mark suddenly turned to him:
“I say: look here, my lad,” he said. “This Stratton: is he mad?”
“No,” said Guest sharply: “certainly not.”
“Then what the deuce is the matter with him?”
“That’s what I’m going to find out, Sir Mark.”
But the days went by, and Guest appeared to get no farther, save only that Stratton, in a despairing way, ceased to resent his friend’s determination to be with him. He even went so far, one evening in his room in Sarum Street, as to show some return of his old confidence, for he tossed a letter across the table.