"No," Julia said, "I don't; I say it does not agree with you, and it
doesn't--you know you ought not to take more than two glasses."

"Is that your opinion, Gillat?" Captain Polkington asked. "Is that
what you meant? That I--I should confine myself to two glasses of
whiskey and water?"

"I wasn't thinking of the whiskey," Johnny said apologetically; "it
was the gees."

The Captain groaned, but what he said more Julia did not hear; she
went out into the kitchen to get paraffin. But she had no doubt that
he defended the attacked point to his own satisfaction, as he always
had done--cards, races, and kindred pleasant, if expensive, things,
ever since the days long ago before he sent in his papers.

These same pleasant things had had a good deal to do with the sending
in of the papers; not that they had led the Captain into anything
disgraceful, the compulsion to resign his commission came solely from
relatives, principally those of his wife. It was their opinion that
he worked too little and played too much, and an expensive kind of
play. That he drank too much was not said; of course, the Indian
climate and life tempted to whiskey pegs, and nature had not fitted
him for them in large quantities; still that was never cast up against
him. Enough was, however, to bring things to an end; he resigned,
relations helped to pay his debts, and he came home with the avowed
intention of getting some gentlemanly employment. Of course he never
got any, it wasn't likely, hardly possible; but he had something left
to live upon--a very small private income, a clever wife, and some
useful and conscientious relations.