"Why, my boy," he said, waving a hand to the spirits and liqueurs, "full
bottles and unopened boxes? Tut, tut! here's a pretty how-d'ye-do. Is
this the way you toast the home quarters? You're a fine soldier for an
old mess!"

So saying, he poured out some whiskey, then opened the box of cigars and
pushed them towards his brother. He did not care particularly to drink
or smoke himself, but a man--an Englishman--is a strange creature. He is
most natural and at ease when he is engaged in eating and drinking. He
relieves every trying situation by some frivolous and selfish occupation,
as of dismembering a partridge, or mixing a punch.

"Well, Frank," said his brother, "now what have you to say for yourself?
Why didn't you come long ago? You have played the adventurer for five
years, and what have you to show for it? Have you a fortune?" Frank
shook his head, and twisted a shoulder. "What have you done that is
worth the doing, then?"

"Nothing that I intended to do, Dick," was the grave reply.

"Yes, I imagined that. You have seen them, have you?" he added, in a
softer voice.

Frank blew a great cloud of smoke about his face, and through it he said:
"Yes, I have seen a damned sight more than I deserved to see."

"Oh, of course; I know that, my boy; but, so far as I can see, in another
direction you are getting quite what you deserve: your wife and child are
upstairs--you are here."