'Is he now?'
'I've fought him. Leastways his son, Akbar Khan.'
'You wasn't hard on him, I hope?'
'No, I wasn't that. I merely carried off the doors of his mosque.'
'Did that hurt him much?'
'His feelings, Mrs. Veale, awful.'
'Lord bless me!' exclaimed the woman, looking at him over her shoulder as she stirred a pot on the fire, with her queer blinking eyes studying his expression but expressing nothing themselves.
'I do wonder you be home from the Revel so early. A soldier like you, and a fine young chap, ought to have stayed and enjoyed yourself. The best of the fun, I've heard tell, is in the evening.'
'How can I stay at the Revel when I haven't a copper to spend there?' asked Charles surlily.
'I don't like to see a grand young fellow like you sitting at home, like an old man with the rheumatics. We will be friends, Charles. I will give you a crown to buy your good-will.' She took the money from her pocket and handed it him.