“Dunno. Sure not to. It’s a rotten world,” replied Dam gloomily. “I expect I shall come back and find you—”
“Of course you’ll come back and find me! What do you mean, Dam?” said the girl. She flushed curiously as she interrupted him. Before he could reply she continued:—
“You won’t be likely to have to go abroad directly you join your Regiment, will you?”
“I shall try for the Indian Army or else for a British Regiment in India,” was the somewhat sullen answer.
“Dam! What ever for?”
“More money and less expenses.”
“Dam! You mercenary little toad! You grasping, greedy hog!… Why! I thought….”
Lucille gazed straight and searchingly at her life-long friend for a full minute and then rose to her feet.
“Come to tea,” she said quietly, and led the way to the big lawn where, beneath an ancient cedar of Lebanon, the pompous Butterton and his solemn satellite were setting forth the tea “things”.
Aunt Yvette presided at the tea-table and talked bravely to two woolly-witted dames from the Vicarage who had called to consult her anent the covering of a foot-stool “that had belonged to their dear Grandmamma”.