"Have you, indeed! You do very little else these days. What's the outcome?"
"Nothing brilliant. Quite the reverse. I'm a coward at heart. That's all about it."
Paul smiled as a mother might smile at the vagaries of a beloved child.
"Can't say I've seen any symptoms of the disease myself."
"Well—you're going to, old man, plain as daylight. It's like this——" he squared his shoulders with a jerk and thrust both hands into his pockets. "I can't face—going back to Kohat. I've suspected it for some time. Now I know it. There's too much—that is to say—there are reasons. Pretty big ones. But they don't bear talking of. Think me a broken-backed cornstalk if you must. It'll hurt. But it can't be helped."
For an instant Paul's heart stood still. Then: "Don't talk that brand of nonsense to me, old man," he said gently. "But if you really can't go back—what then?"
"I said—to Kohat. The reliefs will take us to Dera in the autumn. Well—I want to work another six months on urgent private affairs——" he tried to smile. "Do you think the Colonel will come within a hundred miles of understanding and be persuaded to back me up?"
"I think, just at present, he would be loth to refuse you anything, Theo. But still——"
"Well—what?"
His tone had a touch of defiance, almost of temper, purely refreshing to hear.