“Oh, so it is mine!” agreed Gervase. “I encourage him, and am daily enlarging my vocabulary. He tells me, for instance, that Stanyon would be an easy ken to mill, and expresses his astonishment that no prig has, as yet, slummed it!”
“That’s thieves’ cant!” said Ulverston quickly.
“Is it, Lucy? I am sure you know!”
“Stop bamming! This is serious!”
“Oh, no! For, you see, I — I think the expression is, rumbled his lay! — within five minutes of making his acquaintance! If it comforts you, let me assure you that I shall get rid of him exactly when it pleases me to do so!”
“Ay, will you so? And of me too, I daresay?” said the Viscount.
“I am sure that would be much more difficult,” said Gervase meekly.
He spent the rest of the day (particularly when the Viscount was present) either in attempting to use his left hand, and then, apparently, thinking better of it, or in tucking it into the front of his coat. These tactics very soon brought him under the notice of his friend, who demanded to know if his shoulder was paining him. He denied the smallest feeling of discomfort, and so swiftly turned the subject that the Viscount naturally became suspicious, and said: “I’ll take a look at it!”
“You will do no such thing!” retorted Gervase. “Much you would know if you did!”
“I’ve seen a few shot-wounds in my time, dear boy! I’ll know fast enough if it ain’t healing as it should! However, we can fetch the sawbones to you, if you prefer it!”