"Dereham!"
Dereham removed his eyes from their lazy contemplation of the heat-waves dancing across the heather. Something in the other's voice startled him—some odd mixture of trouble and resentment.
"Have I put my foot in it? I'm beastly sorry if I have; I always was too lazy to think before I spoke. Was it—er—a bit serious?"
"Any man who speaks against my wife runs the risk of getting his neck broken."
Dereham changed colour; but he held out his hand with unaffected regret, and—
"Old fellow," said he, "I hadn't the least idea. You'd better kick me and have done with it."
Griff took the proffered hand and tried to laugh.
"All right, Dereham; only, I wish you hadn't."
"Well, yes; I fancy we both do. Coming, Rover, boy!" This to the pointer, who, after much uneasiness, had started off on his own account with a very business-like air.
Dereham, glad of a break in the discomfort, followed hard after the dog. Presently Rover put up a brace, and Dereham claimed one with each barrel. He returned to his former seat, and Rover brought the birds to him, eyeing him the while with encouraging approval.