I think I've been quartered on you long enough; and I
shall probably get back to duty next week."

He spoke rather rapidly, as if to ward off interruption or dissent; and
Lenox started at finding the initiative thus taken out of his hands.
It was not Quita's doing. He felt sure of that. But Dick's manner
puzzled him, and mere friendliness made acquiescence impossible.

"Well, you seem in a deuce of a hurry to be quit of us," he said, with
a short laugh. "Might as well stop till you do get back to duty; and
you might as well sit down and have a smoke, now you're here, instead
of standing there like a confounded subordinate, making havoc of my
papers!"

At that Richardson sat down rather abruptly, and helped himself from
his friend's cigar-case. He had small talent and less taste for
subterfuge; and, his pulses being in an awkward state of commotion, he
took his time over the beheading and lighting of his cigar. In fact he
took so long that Lenox spoke again.

"What do you suppose my wife will say to your bolting in this way, at a
moment's notice! Have you spoken to her yet?"

"No. I was afraid of seeming . . . ungracious; and one could speak
straighter to you."

"Does that mean you really won't stop on?"

"I think not, thanks. It's awfully good of you to suggest it. I can
look in, of course, if Mrs Lenox wants any more sittings. But I may as
well stick to my arrangement and go before she gets sick of having me
on her hands."

"You're a long way ahead of that, I fancy," Lenox remarked, with an odd
change of tone.

For a statement of that kind Richardson had no answer. He could only
acknowledge it with a rueful smile that did not lift the shadow from
his eyes. There were no sunbeams caught in Quita's 'bits of sea water'
just then; and for a while silence and tobacco-smoke reigned in the
room. Richardson, who appeared to be reading the closely written sheet
of foolscap at his elbow, was casting about in his mind for the best
means of saying that which must be said; while Lenox, watching him
keenly, arrived at the masculine conclusion that Dick had 'come a
cropper' over something, and possibly needed his help.

"Anything on your mind, old chap?" he asked bluntly, when the silence
had lasted nearly five minutes. And Richardson, taking his resolution
in both hands, looked up from the meaningless page.

"Yes, that's about it. Don't misunderstand me, Lenox. I'd sooner
work with you than with any ma