"There's nought to be said betwixt us two, Dick. 'Twould be so damned unnecessary. After all—we always shared in one another's scrapes!"
He stood a moment with his hand on Richard's shoulder; then Richard turned to him "What you must think of me!" he burst out. "My God, when I realise—"
"I know. Believe me, Dick, I know just what you must have felt. But pray forget it! It's over now, and buried."
There was another long silence. Lord John withdrew his hand at last, and perched on the edge of the table, smiling across at Richard.
"I'd well-nigh forgot that you were a middle-aged papa! A son?"
"Ay—John—after you."
"I protest I am flattered. Lord, to think of you with a boy of your own!" He laughed, twirling his eyeglass.
At last Richard smiled.
"To think of you an uncle!" he retorted, and suddenly all vestige of stiffness had fled.