“Yes, sir!” holding his ground now.
Bransby eyed him for a long moment.
Grant did not flinch.
“Sit down.”
Grant did so, and with a sigh of relief—the tension a little eased. What he had before him was hard enough, Heaven knew—but the first point was gained: Bransby would hear him.
“I always thought,” moving towards his own chair beside the writing-table, “that obeying orders was the most sacred thing in your life, Grant. I am anxious to know what could have deprived you of that idea.”
Anxious to know! And when he did know!—Morton Grant began to tremble again, and was speechless.
Bransby studied him thoughtfully. “Well?” he spoke a shade more kindly.
“The matter I—I—I——”
“Yes—yes?” impatience and some sympathy for the other’s distress were struggling.