Shortly afterwards, the
chief, having captured some of the officer's volunteers, whom in the
ordinary course of affairs he would have tortured to death, sent them
back again untouched, with a message to the effect that he would show
the English officer that he was not the only man who could behave 'like
a gentleman.' I should like to know that man. Do you know who he was?"
Bottles looked uncomfortable, as well he might, for it was an incident
in his own career; but her praise and enthusiasm sent a flush of pride
into his face.
"I believe it was some fellow in the Basuto War," he said, prevaricating
with peculiar awkwardness.
"Oh, then it _is_ a true story?"
"Yes--that is, it is partially true. There was nothing heroic about it.
It was a necessary act if our honour as fair opponents was to continue
to be worth anything."
"But who was the man?" she asked, fixing her dark eyes on him
suspiciously.
"The man!" he stammered. "Oh, the man--well, in short----" and he
stopped.
"In short, _George_," she put in, for the first time calling him by his
Christian name, "that man was _you_, and I am so proud of you, George."
It was very hateful to him in a way, for he loathed that kind of
personal adulation, even from her.
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