There was a catch in Farquhar's voice as he told me this, and somehow I did not care to break the pause which followed.
"But," he went on again, "what should I gain by going home now? My title, and the grouse moors which go with it, would gain me friends—of a sort. I know that; but do you imagine that it would be forgotten for a moment that I had to resign my commission because of a hocussed racehorse? Would Mrs. Conyers, for instance, allow me to visit her?"
"Yes," I answered, decidedly; but I wasn't sure.
"You think so? You don't know her, then; and if she would I shouldn't go—can't you see that?"
"I don't see why you shouldn't," I contended.
Sir Ian laughed bitterly as I spoke.
"You don't? No, of course you don't! You've never heard a man call you a cheat and not had the power to call him a liar in return. A few experiences of that sort develop one's shyness, you'd find. I shall never go home till——"
"Till Nellie Conyers asks you to," I interrupted.
"No," he answered, "not that; I stick to possibilities. I was merely going to say that I wouldn't go home until I could give the lie to every man in my old regiment. Looks as if I should stay here some time, doesn't it?"
"You can clear yourself," I suggested.