Torpenhow was disgusted as the weeks
went by fruitless, and then attacked him one Sunday evening when Dick felt
utterly exhausted after three hours' biting self-restraint in Maisie's
presence. There was Language, and Torpenhow withdrew to consult the Nilghai,
who had come it to talk continental politics.
"Bone-idle, is he? Careless, and touched in the temper?" said the Nilghai. "It
isn't worth worrying over. Dick is probably playing the fool with a woman."
"Isn't that bad enough?"
"No. She may throw him out of gear and knock his work to pieces for a while.
She may even turn up here some day and make a scene on the staircase: one never
knows. But until Dick speaks of his own accord you had better not touch him. He
is no easy-tempered man to handle."
"No; I wish he were. He is such an aggressive, cocksure, you-be-damned fellow."
"He'll get that knocked out of him in time. He must learn that he can't storm
up and down the world with a box of moist tubes and a slick brush.
You're fond of him?"
"I'd take any punishment that's in store for him if I could; but the worst of
it is, no man can save his brother."
"No, and the worser of it is, there is no discharge in this war. Dick must
learn his lesson like the rest of us.
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