"What a thoroughbred!" he said at length, turning to the Doctor. "I'm not certain it isn't better—as it is."
"Hang it, man!" said the Doctor, irritably. "The boy is a thoroughbred, too. What did you say yourself after dinner about the results having to justify the sacrifice?"
But the Soldier only grunted non-committally.
It would doubtless be an excellent thing if theory and practice never clashed.
Sybil came slowly into the room, and Madge Saunderson rose with a meaning glance at Captain Seymour.
"Syb," she cried, "we've got the finest bet on you've ever thought of! I've betted Captain Seymour six pairs of gloves that he doesn't climb up Mill Down chimney in the moonlight, and he's betted me five hundred of his most special cigarettes that he does."
For a moment a silence settled on the room, which was broken by Lady Vera. "But are you quite sure it's safe, my dear?" she remarked, searching for a dropped stitch. "It might fall down or something."
Miss Saunderson laughed merrily. "Why, Aunt Vera," she cried, "there are men working on it every day. It's quite safe—only I bet he'll have cold feet, and not get to the top—V.C. and all." She flashed a smile at the flying-man. "And it's a ripping evening for a walk."
The Doctor turned to his companion. "I wonder what that young woman's game is?" he remarked, thoughtfully.
"I don't know," answered the Soldier. "I suppose you've got a good head for heights, Seymour?" he called out.