"To put flowers on his grave."
"May I have as fair hands to decorate my grave, Miss Catherine Carnegie," and the Doctor bowed gallantly; "but of one thing I am sure, I have done nothing to deserve it. Saunderson was a scholar of the ancient kind, and a very fine spirit."
"Don't you think," said Kate, "that he was … like À Kempis, I mean, and George Herbert, a kind of … saint?"
"Altogether one, I should say. I don't think he would have known port wine from sherry, or an entrée from a mutton chop; beside a man like that what worldly fellows you and I are, Jack, and mine is the greater shame."
"I'll have no comparisons, Padre"—Kate was a little puzzled by the tone in the Doctor's voice; "he was so good that I loved him; but there are some points in the General and you, quite nice points, and for the sake of them you shall have afternoon tea in my room," where the Doctor and the General fell on former days and were wonderful company.
"It's not really about the road I wish to talk to you," and the Doctor closed the door of the General's den, "but about … a terrible calamity that has befallen you and me, Jack, and I am to blame."
"What is it?" and Carnegie sat erect; "does it touch our name or … Kate?"
"Neither, thank God," said Davidson.
"Then it cannot be so very bad. Let us have it at once," and the General lighted a cheroot.
"Our bank has failed, and we shall have to give up everything to pay the debt, and … Jack, it was I advised you to buy the shares." The Doctor rose and went to the window.