“Ah! yes, trouble; but not between us. Sorrow shared by both. We’re in the same boat.”
“In that case, why didn’t you bring him in?”
“I didn’t think of it.”
“Well; we’ll drink his health. And since you say you’ve both embarked in the same boat—a bad one—here’s to your reaching a good haven, and in safety!”
“Thanks, Major! The haven I now want to reach, and intend entering ere another sun sets, is the harbour of Folkestone.”
The Major almost drops his glass. “Why, Ryecroft, you’re surely joking?”
“No, Mahon; I’m in earnest—dead anxious earnest.”
“Well, I wonder! No, I don’t,” he adds, correcting himself. “A man needn’t be surprised at anything where there’s a woman concerned. May the devil take her, who’s taking you away from me!”
“Major Mahon!”
“Well—well, old boy! Don’t be angry. I meant nothing personal, knowing neither the lady, nor the reason for thus changing your mind, and so soon leaving me. Let my sorrow at that be my excuse.”