"Is it a pose of yours, John? Is it Sir Anthony Ferndale, Bart?"
"No. I believe it is myself. You see, when one has but one's self to live for and think for—one makes the most of one's self! Hence my vanity. Take the mirror away, please—the sight of my countenance offends me!"
"Sure, ye are free with your orders, me lord!" said O'Hara, putting the glass down on the table. "And, while I think of it—what might your name be now?"
"John Carr—a slip of the tongue on my part, stopped in time. I hear my mentor returning—and—Miles!"
"Well?"
"Come again!"
"Come again! My dear boy, ye'll be sick of the sight of me soon! I shall be here every day."
"Thanks! It will take a good deal to sicken me, I think." He bit his lip, turning his head away as Miss Betty came into the room.
"I'm afraid that you ought to leave my patient now, Sir Miles," she said. "He has had enough excitement for one day, and should sleep." She glanced at the averted head inquiringly. "I doubt he is tired?"
Jack turned and smiled at her.