But Holles did not wish to see. He shifted restlessly in his chair, swinging at last to lean across the table towards the Duke.
“But surely ... at such a time ... in the hour of England’s need ... with war impending, and experienced officers to seek ... surely, there would be some justification for....”
Again Albemarle shook his head, his face grave and sad.
“There can never be justification for deceit—for falsehood.”
For a long moment they faced each other thus, Holles striving the while to keep the despair from his face. Then slowly the Colonel sank back into his chair. A moment he brooded, his eyes upon the polished floor, then, with a little sigh, a little shrug, a little upward throw of the hands, he reached for the hat that lay on the floor beside him.
“In that case....” He paused to swallow something that threatened to mar the steadiness of his voice, “ ... it but remains for me to take my leave....”
“No, no.” The Duke leaned across and set a restraining hand upon his visitor’s arm. “We part not thus, Randal.”
Holles looked at him, still inwardly struggling to keep his self-control. He smiled a little, that sad irresistible smile of his. “You, sir, are a man overweighted with affairs; the burden of a state at war is on your shoulders, I....”
“None the less you shall stay to dine.”