You can't afford it.
Just think that over to yourself--you--can't--afford--it."
Major-General Kervick's prominent blue eyes had bulged
forth in rage till their appearance had disconcerted the
other's gaze. They remained still too much in the foreground,
as it were, and the angry scarlets and violets of the cheeks
beneath them carried an unabated threat of apoplexy--but
their owner, after a moment's silence, made a sign
with his stiff white brows that the crisis was over.
"You must remember that--that I have a father's feelings,"
he gasped then, huskily.
Thorpe nodded, with a nonchalance which was not wholly affected.
He had learned what he wanted to know about this veteran.
If he had the fierce meannesses of a famished old dog,
he had also a dog's awe of a stick. It was almost too
easy to terrorize him.
"Oh, I make allowances for all that," Thorpe began, vaguely.
"But it's important that you should understand me.
I'm this sort of a man: whatever I set out to do, and put
my strength into it, that I do! I kill every pheasant I
fire at; Plowden will tell you that! It's a way I have.
To those that help me, and are loyal to me, I'm the best
friend in the world. To those that get in my way,
or try to trip me up, I'm the devil--just plain devil.
Now then--you're getting three hundred a year from
my Company, that is to say from me, simply to oblige my
friend Plowden.
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