“Not in the least,” said Carlyon.

“The men couldn’t have held out without him,” Derrick continued.  “After I was hit, he stood by them.  He only took himself off just before morning came and you ventured to move to our assistance.”

“He had no possible right to do it,” observed Carlyon thoughtfully ignoring the bitter ring of sarcasm in the boy’s tone.

“Oh, none whatever,” said Derrick.  He spoke hastily, jerkily, as a man not sure of himself.  “No doubt his life was Government property, and he had no right to risk it.  Still he did it, and I am weak-minded enough to be grateful.  My own life may be worthless; at least, it was then.  And I would not have survived my Goorkhas.  But he saved them, too.  That, odd as it may seem to you, made all the difference to me.”

“Is your life more valuable now than it was a few months ago?” enquired Carlyon, in a casual tone.

“Yes,” said Derrick shorty.

“Has Averil accepted you?” Carlyon asked him point-blank.

“Yes,” said Derrick again.

There was a momentary pause.  Then:  “Permit me to offer my felicitations!” said Carlyon, through a haze of tobacco-smoke.

Derrick started as if stung.  “I beg you won’t do anything of the sort!” he said with vehemence.  “I don’t want your good wishes.  I would rather be without them.  I may be a hare-brained fool.  I won’t deny it.  But as for you—­you are a blackguard—­the worst sort of blackguard!  I hope I shall never speak to you again!”

Carlyon, lying back in his chair, neither stirred nor spoke.  He looked up at Derrick from beneath steady eyelids.  But he offered him nothing in return for his insulting words.

Derrick waited for seconds.  Then patience and resolution alike failed him.  He swung round abruptly on his heel and walked out of the room.

As for Colonel Carlyon, he did not rise from his chair till he had conscientiously finished his cigar.  He had stuck to his principles.  He had not answered his critic.  Incidentally he had borne more from that critic than any man had ever before dared to offer him, more than he had told Derrick himself that he would bear.  Yet Derrick had gone away from the encounter with a whole skin in order that Colonel Carlyon might stick to his principles.  Carlyon’s forbearance was a plant of peculiar growth.

V

A WOMAN’S FORGIVENESS

“Colonel Carlyon,” said Averil, turning to face him fully, her eyes very bright, “will you take the trouble to make me understand about Derrick?  I have been awaiting an opportunity to ask you ever since I heard about it.”

Carlyon paused.  They chanced to be staying simultaneously in the house of a mutual friend.  He had arrived only the previous evening, and till that moment had scarcely spoken to the girl.

Carlyon smothered an involuntary sigh.  He could have wished that this girl, with her straight eyes and honest speech, would have spared him the explanation which she had made such speed to demand of him.