“Not even a tu quoque like that explains the mystery.”
“Some day I’ll tell you all about it. When the time comes I must ask Lady Heronsdale to find me a nice wife, with a warranty.”
“Gad, that’s the job for Mollie. She’ll put the future Mrs. Grant through her paces. You’re not flying off to India again, then?”
“No. I heard last week that a post is to be found for me in the Intelligence Department.”
“Capital! You’ll soon have a K. before the C. B.”
“Possibly. Some fellows wear themselves to the bone in trying for those things. My scheming for years has been to avoid the humdrum of cantonment life. And, behold! I am spotted for promotion. I don’t know how the deuce they ever heard of me in Pall Mall.”
“Gad! Don’t you read the papers?”
“Never.”
“My dear fellow, they were full of you last year. That march through the snow, pulling those guns through the pass, the final relief of the fort—Gad, Molly has the cuttings. She’ll show ’em to you after dinner.”
“I sincerely hope Lady Heronsdale will do no such thing. Why on earth does she keep such screeds?”