“I’m awfully sorry about your arm, Ratcliffe,” he said at length.  “A filthy bit of bad luck that.”

“Damnable,” said Nick.

“I’ve been meaning to look you up for a long time,” Grange proceeded, “but somehow it hasn’t come off.”

Nick laughed rather dryly.  He was perfectly well aware that Grange had been steadily avoiding him ever since his return.  “Very good of you,” he said, subsiding upon the sofa and pulling the cushions about him.  “I’ve been saving up my congratulations for you all these weeks.  I might have written, of course, but I had a notion that the spoken word would be more forcible.”

Grange stirred uneasily, neither understanding nor greatly relishing Nick’s tone.  He wished vehemently that he would leave the subject alone.

Nick, however, had no such intention.  A faint fiendish smile was twitching the corners of his lips.  He did not even glance in Blake’s direction.  There was no need.

“Well, I wish you joy,” he said lightly.

“Thank you,” returned Grange, without elation and with very little gratitude.  In some occult fashion, Nick was making it horribly awkward for him.  He longed to change the subject, but could find nothing to say—­possibly because Nick quite obviously had not yet done with it.

“Going to get married before you sail?” he asked abruptly.

“I don’t think so.”  Very reluctantly Grange made reply.

“Why not?” said Nick.

“Muriel doesn’t want to be married till she is out of mourning,” Grange explained.

“Why doesn’t she go out of mourning then?”

Grange didn’t know, hadn’t even thought of it.

“Perhaps she will elect to wear mourning all her life,” suggested Nick.  “Have you thought of that?”

There was a distinct gibe in this, and Grange at once retreated to a less exposed position.  “I am quite willing to wait for her,” he said.  “And she knows it.”

“You’re deuced easily pleased then,” rejoined Nick.  “And let me tell you—­for I’m sure you don’t know—­there’s not a single woman under the sun who appreciates that sort of patience.”

Grange ignored the information with a decidedly sullen air.  He did not regard Nick as particularly well qualified to give him advice upon such a subject.

After a moment Nick saw his attitude, and laughed aloud.  “Yes, say it, man!  It’s quite true in a sense, and I shouldn’t contradict you if it weren’t.  But has it never occurred to you that I was under a terrific disadvantage from the very beginning?  Do you remember that I undertook the job that you shirked?  Or do you possibly present the matter to yourself—­and others—­in some more attractive form?”

He turned upon his elbow with the question and regarded Grange with an odd expectancy.  But Grange smoked in silence, not raising his eyes.