“Joking apart,” said he, in a tone that assuredly bespoke sincerity, “I could n't stand such a dinner as we had to-day very often. I can bear being bullied, for I was brought up to it. I served on Rolffe's staff in Bombay for four years, and when a man has been an aide-de-camp he knows what being bullied means; but what I could not endure is that outpouring of conceit mingled with rotten recollections. Another evening of it would kill me.” “I certainly would not advise your coming here at that price,” said she, with a gravity almost comical. “The difficulty is how to get off. He appears to me to resent as an affront everything that differs from his own views.” “He is not accustomed to much contradiction.” “Not to any at all!” The energy with which he said this made her laugh heartily, and he half smiled at the situation himself. “They are coming upstairs,” said she; “will you ring for tea?--the bell is beside you.” “Oh, if they 're coming I 'm off. I promised my mother a short visit this evening. Make my excuses if I am asked for;” and with this he slipped from the room and went his way. “Where's the Colonel, Lucy? Has he gone to bed?” “No, sir, he has gone to see his mother; he had made some engagement to visit her this evening.” “This new school of politeness is too liberal for my taste. When we were young men, Haire, we would not have ventured to leave the house where we had dined without saluting the host.” “I take it we must keep up with the spirit of our time.” “You mistake, Haire,--it is the spirit of our time is in arrear. It is that same spirit lagging behind, and deserting the post it once occupied, makes us seem in default. Let us have the cribbage-board, Lucy. Haire has said all the smart things he means to give us this evening, and I will take my revenge at the only game at which I am his master. Haire, who reads men like a book, Lucy,” continued the Chief, as he dealt the cards, “says that our gallant friend will rebel against our humdrum life here. I demur to the opinion,--what say you?” But he was now deep in his game, and never heeded the answer. CHAPTER XXXIV. SEWELL'S TROUBLES “A letter for you by the post, sir, and his Lordship's compliments to say he is waiting breakfast,” were the first words which Sewell heard the next morning. “Waiting breakfast! Tell him not to wait,--I mean, make my respects to his Lordship, and say I feel very poorly to-day,--that I think I 'll not get up just yet.” “Would you like to see Dr. Beattie, sir? He's in the drawing-room.”