“Faith, that is another story,” laughed Hone, hitching his pony’s bridle on his arm.  “We live and learn, Mrs. Perceval.  I have learnt it.”

And with that he bowed and passed on, every inch a soldier and to his finger-tips a gentleman.

II

“Hullo, Pat!”

Teddy Duncombe, airily clad in pyjamas, stood a moment on the verandah to peer in upon his major, then stepped into the room with the assurance of one who had never yet found himself unwelcome.

“Hullo, my son!” responded Hone, who, clad still more airily, was exercising his great muscles with dumb-bells before plunging into his morning tub.

Duncombe seated himself to watch the operations with eyes of keen appreciation.

“By Jove,” he said admiringly at length, “you are a mighty specimen!  I believe you’ll live for ever.”

“Not on this plaguey little planet, let us trust!” said Hone, speaking through his teeth by reason of his exertions.

“You ought to marry,” said Duncombe, still intently observant.  “Giants like you have no right to remain single in these degenerate days.”

“Faith!” scoffed Hone.  “It’s an age of feather-weights, and I’m out of date entirely.”

He thumped down his dumb-bells, and stood up with arms outstretched.  He saw the open admiration in his friend’s eyes, and laughed at it.

But Duncombe remained serious.

“Why don’t you get married, Pat?” he said.

Hone’s arms slowly dropped.  His brown face sobered.  But the next instant he smiled again.

“Find the woman, Teddy!” he said lightly.

“I’ve found her,” said Teddy unexpectedly.

“The deuce you have!” said Hone.  “Sure, and it’s truly grateful I am!  Is she young, my son, and lovely?”

“She is the loveliest woman I know,” said Teddy Duncombe, with all sincerity.

“Faith!” laughed the Irishman.  “But that’s heartfelt!  Why don’t you enter for the prize yourself?”

“I’m going to marry little Lucy Fabian as soon as she will have me,” explained Duncombe.  “We settled that ages ago, almost as soon as she came out.  It’s not a formal engagement even yet, but she has promised to bear it in mind.  We had a talk last night, and—­I believe I haven’t much longer to wait.”

“Good luck to you, dear fellow!” said Hone.  “You deserve the best.”  He laid his hand for a moment on Duncombe’s shoulder.  “It’s been a good partnership, Teddy boy,” he said.  “I shall miss you.”

Teddy gripped the hand hard.

“You’ll have to get married yourself, Pat,” he declared urgently.  “It isn’t good for man to live alone.”

“And so you are going to provide for my future also,” laughed Hone.  “And the lady’s name?”

“Oh, she’s an old friend!” said Duncombe.  “Can’t you guess?”

Hone shook his head.

“I can’t imagine any old friend taking pity on me.  Have you sounded her feelings on the subject?  Or perhaps she hasn’t got any where I am concerned.”