“Twenty years.”
“Is it well known—much talked of?”
“No, you know how things are dropped in a town. The story’s known, but no one speaks of it. Now the girl has come back, I suppose Dame Rumor will set it flying again.”
Captain Macartney relapsed into a chagrined silence. Camperdown sucking in both his cheeks till he was a marvel of ugliness, watched him sharply, and with wicked enjoyment. “You’ll have to give her up, Macartney.”
“By Jove, I will,” said the officer angrily. “My uncle would cut me off with a ha’penny.”
“Bah!” said his companion contemptuously. “I would not give her up for all the uncles in Christendom.”
“You know nothing about the duty of renunciation,” said the other sarcastically. “I’ve not drunk a glass of wine for a twelve-month.”
“What’s wrong?” said the physician with professional curiosity.
“Indigestion,” shortly. Then slowly, “Suppose I married the girl—she could not live on air.”
“Your pay.”