“Reflects on you?” said Eveleen, in amazement.
“Well, and why wouldn’t it? Wasn’t it a compliment to me his getting the post? You don’t think the old lad would have picked out Ambrose out of all the unjustly treated men in Khemistan if you were not my sister? Then don’t my fine Major owe it to me to look a bit grateful—whether he is or not?”
Amazement had kept Eveleen silent for the moment, but now she descended on him crushingly. “I never heard anything like it!” she declared indignantly. “A little weeshy bit of a boy like you to dare to criticise Major Ambrose! A compliment to you, indeed! I’d have you know, my bold fellow, that Ambrose stands on his own feet, and needs no help from you or anybody. Why would he look grateful to you, pray, when he owes you nothing, nothing in the wide world? I’d advise you be ashamed of yourself to be talking such nonsense.”
“Oh, all serene,” growled Brian, considerably taken aback. “Don’t think I want to put you under an obligation, I beg of you. And if you prefer Ambrose to go about with the face he has, sure I’d be the last to wish it altered! Some people would say his manner to you would be the better of a little change too, but——”
“You dare! Brian, you dare!” Eveleen’s eyes flashed fire, and once more her brother withdrew discreetly.
“Ah, then, don’t destroy me entirely! As I say, if you like it, it’s your business it is, not mine.”
“And for once in your life y’are right! Take this from me, Brian Delany: if ever you dare speak against Major Ambrose again, I declare to you I’ll make you sorry y’ever were born! Is that clear to you?”
“It is, it is! ’Pon my word, old Evie, I never meant to rile you like this. ’Twas just that I felt——”
“Take care!” warningly.
“I will, indeed. Sure I ought remember that only a fool would go interfering between a man and his wife. ’Twas none of my business, and I ask your pardon.”