Of the
immense and joyous relief in it his secretary caught no hint; all
he heard was its sheer amusement, and this galled and shamed him.
For no man cares to be laughed at for such feelings as Tremayne
had been led into betraying.
"You think it something to laugh at?" he said tartly.
"Laugh, is it?" spluttered Sir Terence. "God grant I don't burst a
blood-vessel."
Tremayne reddened. "When you've indulged your humour, sir," he
said stiffly, "perhaps you'll consider the matter of this dispatch."
But Sir Terence laughed more uproariously than ever. He came to
stand beside Tremayne, and slapped him heartily on the shoulder.
"Ye'll kill me, Ned!" he protested. "For God's sake, not so glum.
It's that makes ye ridiculous."
"I am sorry you find me ridiculous."
"Nay, then, it's glad ye ought to be. By my soul, if Sylvia tempts
you, man, why the devil don't ye just succumb and have done with it?
She's handsome enough and well set up with her air of an Amazon, and
she rides uncommon straight, begad! Indeed it's a broth of a girl
she is in the hunting-field, the ballroom, or at the breakfast-table,
although riper acquaintance may discover her not to be quite all that
you imagine her at present.
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