And amid much laughter, and in no very amiable frame of mind, I quitted my persecutors.
I made sure Jack would read me a lecture, or at any rate refer to the subject which had caused me so much annoyance. He did neither.
“Lively lot they are,” said he. “It’s a wonder where they pick up all their notions.”
“They want to make you believe I’ve been up to all sorts of mischief since you went away,” I said.
Jack laughed.
“And they expect me to believe it,” said he. “The best way with them is to let them say what they like, and take no notice.”
We went upstairs to bed, as the only place where we could enjoy one another’s society undisturbed.
As we were undressing. Jack took from his pocket a photograph, which he showed to me.
“Fred,” said he, “would you like to see a portrait of Mary?”
“Your sister?” said I, taking the picture. “Yes.”