“Mr. Ritchie, it gives me more pleasure than I can express to see you so much recovered.”
“I am again thrown on your hospitality, sir,” I said, flushing with pleasure at this friendliness. For I admired and respected the man greatly. “And I fear I have been a burden and trouble to you and your family.”
He took my hand and pressed it. Characteristically, he did not answer this, and I remembered he was always careful not to say anything which might smack of insincerity.
“I had a glimpse of you some weeks ago,” he said, thus making light of the risk he had run. “You are a different man now. You may thank your Scotch blood and your strong constitution.”
“His good habits have done him some good, after all,” put in my irrepressible cousin.
Monsieur de St. Gré smiled.
“Nick,” he said (he pronounced the name quaintly, like Antoinette), “his good habits have turned out to be some advantage to you. Mr. Ritchie, you have a faithful friend at least.” He patted Nick's shoulder again. “And he has promised me to settle down.”
“I have every inducement, sir,” said Nick.
Monsieur de St. Gré became grave.
“You have indeed, Monsieur,” he answered.