Wyndham struggled hard to shake off the weakness that had come over him, and replied, “It’s about those visits to—to Beamish’s. They—that is, Riddell—I don’t know how or who told him—but he seems to have found out about it.”
“Riddell!” cried Gilks, scornfully; “who cares for him?”
“Oh, but,” continued Wyndham, tremulously, “he means to report me for it.”
“What? report you? I thought you and he were such dear pious friends,” sneered Gilks.
“We are friends; but he says it is his duty to do it.”
Gilks laughed scornfully.
“Of course, it is! It only needs for a thing to be mean and low, and it will always be his duty to do it. Bah! the hypocrite!”
Wyndham was proof against this invective. Nay, bitterly as the captain’s sense of duty affected him, he could not help a passing feeling of indignation on his friend’s behalf at Gilk’s words.
But he was prudent enough to keep his feelings to himself.
“Of course,” said he, “if he does report me for it, I shall be expelled.”