The latter bustled about the room with an air of more or less importance, sorted his letters, fussed with a newspaper; and every now and then Malcourt, glancing up, caught Portlaw's eyes peeping triumphantly around corners at him.
"You've been riding?" he said, much amused. "Are you stiff?"
"A trifle," replied the other carelessly. "I must keep it up. Really, you know, I've rather neglected the horses lately."
"Rather. So you're taking up riding again?"
Portlaw nodded: "I've come to the conclusion that I need exercise."
Malcourt, who had been urging him for years to exercise, nodded approval as though the suggestion were a brand-new one.
"Yes," said Portlaw, "I shall ride, I think, every day. I intend to do a good bit of tramping, too. It's excellent for the liver, Louis."
At this piece of inspired information Malcourt assumed an expression of deepest interest, but hoped Portlaw might not overdo it.
"I'm going to diet, too," observed Portlaw, watching the effect of this astounding statement on his superintendent. "My theory is that we all eat too much."
"Don't do anything Spartan," said Malcourt warningly; "a man at your time of life—"