glanced down whimsically at his useless legs, cloaked beneath the
inevitable rug. "After all," he continued, "life--and death--are both
fearfully interesting if one only goes to meet them instead of running
away from them. Then they become bogies."

"And what shall I do . . . without you?" she said very low.

"Aye." He nodded. "It's worse for those who are left behind. I've been
one of them, and I know. I remember--" He broke off short, his blue
eyes dreaming. Presently he gave his shoulders the characteristic little
shake which presaged the dismissal of some recalcitrant secret thought,
and went on in quick, practical tones.

"I don't want to go out leaving a lot of loose ends behind me--a tangle
for you to unravel. So, since the fiat has gone forth--McPherson's a
sound man and knows his job--let's face it together, little old pal. It
will mean your leaving Barrow, you know," he added tentatively.

Sara nodded, her face rather white.

"Yes, I know. I shan't care--then."

"Oh yes, you will"--with shrewd wisdom. "It will be an extra drop in
the bucket, you'll find, when the time comes. Unfortunately, however,
there's no getting round the entail, and when I go, my cousin, Major
Durward, will reign in my stead."

"Why does the Court go to a Durward?" asked Sara listlessly. "Aren't
there any Lovells to inherit?"