“The youngster’s all right again, I see,” said he, putting his hand on my arm. “I’ll see he takes care of himself—good-bye.”
And the train steamed off, leaving us two on the platform.
“I hope your hand’s not awfully bad,” said I, breaking a silence of nearly three months in the only way which occurred for the moment.
“Rather not. We’d better cab it back—you’re not up to walking yet.”
“Thanks awfully, Tempest, for saving—”
“Look here, don’t let’s get on to that,” said he.
“I say,” said I, “I was afraid you believed what Crofter said, and thought—”
“You were an ass, Tommy—you always were—I ought to have remembered it. Of course I never believed a word Crofter said—I saw his game. But I was idiot enough to get riled at you for giving yourself away to him. I’m sorry. Now let’s forget it. After all, it was the best thing for me that all that row about my bills came out when it did. You did me a better turn than you meant to do. Just like you—if you try to do things the right way, it’s all up with everybody. But if you do them your own way, they manage to come round somehow.”
“But Crofter’s done you out of the captaincy.”
“So much the better—I didn’t deserve it. I’ll get it back some day perhaps, and work it better. Come in to me to tea. Redwood’s coming, and old Dicky, too.”