“May I not come to see you again tomorrow?” John suggested.
“You might not find me, young man,” Sir Peter said, with a grim smile. “I don’t know how much time I have left to me, and I can’t afford to waste it. Set out the brandy, Winkfield, and then take yourself off! I’ll ring when I want you.”
“I shall be in the dressing-room, sir,” said Winkfield.
He appeared to address his master, but his eyes were on John’s face. John nodded, and he bowed very slightly.
“You may kiss me good-night, Nell, and then be off to Rose. You will not go downstairs: do you hear me, girl?”
She bent over him, and kissed his brow. “Very plainly, dearest! Indeed, I do not mean to go downstairs. Pray do not keep Captain Staple too long from his gate!”
He waved her away impatiently. She crossed the room to the door, which John was holding open, and paused, holding out her hand. “Good-night—Captain Staple!”
He carried her hand to his lips. “Good-night—Miss Stornaway!” he returned, smiling down at her.
She went out, and he closed the door behind her, and turned to see Sir Peter’s quizzing-glass raised again.
“H’m! Pour yourself out some brandy!”