"He's consumptive, there are all the symptoms, and it is weakness caused through that. He may be able to go out to-morrow as he says; it is wonderful how they rally—a flash in the pan. He can't live long, I'm afraid; in any case he ought to give up riding," said the doctor.
"I don't think he'll mind that so much now he's won the St. Leger," said Picton, smiling. He liked the doctor, fancied he resembled some one he knew. "Will you come to Haverton and have a shot on the moor?" he asked.
"You are very kind, Mr. Woodridge, but perhaps when you hear my name you may be prejudiced against me."
"A name can make no difference," said Picton. "What is it?"
"Bernard Elroy."
Picton started; he was much surprised.
"I am the brother-in-law of Mrs. Elroy. Now do you understand?"
"Yes," said Picton. "It makes no difference; all that is past."
"But not forgotten," said the doctor.
"No, it is not. You cannot expect it."