"Sir Ian Farquhar," said I, "light one of those Villar y Villars and sit down and listen to me. After you've heard what I have to say, I'll never visit you again until you ask me."
I told him my tale, and he heard it through without showing by a flicker how it affected him.
"Now," said I, when I had finished, "what are you going to do?"
"Bid you good-night," he answered, shortly. "I work the first train to-morrow."
"Man!" I exclaimed, in amazement, "Nellie Conyers wants you—she sent me to say so."
"Does she? Then she can come and say so herself."
"Oh, come, that's unreasonable," I began; but a flutter of skirts at the door interrupted me.
"I couldn't wait any longer," said my cousin Nellie, pleadingly. "Ian, you'll come back to England with me?"
I picked up my hat and went for a stroll. When I returned the door was closed, and Nellie was waiting outside.
"Don't go in," she commanded. "He sent me out to wait till he'd changed out of his railway clothes. He has hunted an old Poole suit out of his trunk, and is putting it on."