'Tell him nothing, pray.'
'As you please, Miss Wellwood. I knew him in India, before I was in the Guards.'
'Indeed.'
'Yes; I remember his first dinner with our mess at Lahore—got screwed, as the phrase is; and how do you think he was taken to his bungalow?'
'In a cab, perhaps,' suggested Mary.
'We carried him through the lines shoulder-high upon a door, with the bugles playing the "Dead March in Saul," before him.'
'Then he is dissipated?'
'Oh—awfully—a wild fellow, in that sense.'
'He was wounded in an affair with a hill tribe?'
'So was I. Had your odious cousin been shot, I suppose you would not have cared much?'