pence! We're all as right ninepence. So there we'll leave it, before the Major has time to say he is twopence short." Laughing his strange old soundless laugh, Sir William rose and made a little bow. "Come up and join the ladies in a minute or two," he said. Arthur opened the door for him and he left the room.
The four men were silent for a moment—then the Colonel whipped up the decanter and filled his glass. Then he stood up and clinked glasses with Aaron, like a real old sport.
"Luck to you," he said.
"Thanks," said Aaron.
"You're going in the morning?" said Arthur.
"Yes," said Aaron.
"What train?" said Arthur.
"Eight-forty."
"Oh—then we shan't see you again. Well—best of luck."
"Best of luck—" echoed the Colonel.
"Same to you," said Aaron, and they all peered over their glasses and quite loved one another for a rosy minute.
"I should like to know, though," said the hollow-cheeked young Major with the black flap over his eye, "whether you do really mean you are all right—that it is all right with you—or whether you only say so to get away from the responsibility."
"I mean I don't really care—I don't a damn—let the devil take it all."
"The devil doesn't want it, either," said the Major.
"Then let him leave it. I don't care one single little curse about it all."
"Be damned. What is there to care about?" said the Colonel.
"Ay, what?" said Aaron.
"It's all the same, whether you care or don't care. So I say it's much easier not to care," said Arthur.
"Of course it is," said the Colonel gaily.
"And I think so, too," said Aaron.
"Right you are! We're all as right as ninepence—what? Good old sport! Here's yours!" cried the Colonel.
