If he could only have been with the Highlanders at the assault! If—well, death would never come to him so. He had fought that out in the hospital and again the other night at home.
The music sobbed itself into silence.
"The old beach is a good deal prettier by night than I ever used to fancy it could be, as a little chap," he said after awhile. "I'll remember it when I'm back in—Argyll."
"Why in the world are you in such a hurry to get back?" asked Cary.
"Oh, there are some things to be looked out for, and accounts to be gone over with Mactier. I couldn't do without him."
"No, indeed. You're going to stay there during the winter, I suppose. You'll go back to London for the season?"
"I guess not this year," he said. "I'm not much on the society act."
"You'll be lonely—won't you?"
Trevelyan stopped and beat his foot against the sand and looked down at it.
"Oh, I've been a lonely kind of a chap all my life," he said in a matter of fact tone.