Levasseur looked amused. He was a strongly-built, smooth-shaven
fellow, with rather long hair, and the sallow look of the
cigarette-smoker. His eyes were sleepy, his expression indolent or
good-natured.

'Oh, I'll make myself scarce with the greatest pleasure,' he said
civilly. 'I can stroll about the park till you're ready for me
again,' he added, turning to the Squire. 'Lovely day--I'll take a
book and some cigarettes.' And diving into an open box which stood
near he filled his cigarette-case from it, and then looked round him
for a book. 'Where's that copy of the _Anthology_? That'll do
nicely.'

The Squire burst into a laugh, observing Sir Henry.

'He's over military age, Chicksands.'

'I suppose so,' said Sir Henry stiffly.

'But only by six months, when the Act passed. So he's _just_ escaped
you.'

'I've really no concern whatever with Mr. Levasseur's affairs.' Sir
Henry had flushed angrily. 'Is it to be here, or the smoking-room?'

'Ta-ta! See you again presently,' said Levasseur. 'Ah, there's the
book!' And diving to the floor for a hat and a book lying beside it,
he made off, lighting a cigarette, with a laughing backward glance
towards the Squire and his companion.