"I want to talk to you, dear old fellow," he tenderly remarked. "Can you
spare me a few moments of your valuable time?"

"Two minutes," said Fisher with brevity.

"By Jove! What generosity!" ejaculated Charlie, his hands clasped behind
his head, his eyes on the ceiling. "It's rather a delicate matter.
However, here goes! Do you seriously mean business, or don't you? Are
you in sober earnest, or aren't you? Are you badly smitten, or are you
only just beginning to hover round the candle? Pardon my mixture of
similes! The meaning remains intact."

Silence followed his somewhat involved speech. After a pause Captain
Fisher got up slowly, and turned round to face the boy on his bed.

"Whatever your meaning may be, I don't fathom it," he said curtly.

Charlie rolled on to his side to look at him.

"Dense as a London fog," he murmured.

"You'd better go," said Fisher, dropping his cigarette into the fire and
beginning to undress.

Charlie sat up and watched him with an air of interest. Fisher took no
more notice of him. There was no waste of ceremony between these two.

Charlie got up at last and laid sudden hands on his friend's square
shoulders.