"
"No; I am not angry with you," said Bottles; "you meant kindly, but I am
angry with myself. It was not honourable to--in short, play the spy upon
a woman's weakness."
"You are very scrupulous," yawned Sir Eustace; "all means are fair to
catch a snake. Dear me, I nearly exploded once or twice; it was better
than [yawn] any [yawn] play," and Sir Eustace went to sleep.
Bottles sat still and stared at the fire.
Presently his brother woke up with a start. "Oh, you are there, are you,
Bottles?" (it was the first time he had called him by that name since
his return.) "Odd thing; but do you know that I was dreaming that we
were boys again, and trout-fishing in the old Cantlebrook stream. I
dreamt that I hooked a big fish, and you were so excited that you jumped
right into the river after it--you did once, you remember--and the river
swept you away and left me on the bank; most unpleasant dream. Well,
good night, old boy. I vote we go down and have some trout-fishing
together in the spring. God bless you!"
"Good night," said Bottles, gazing affectionately after his brother's
departing form.
Then he too rose and went to his bedroom. On a table stood a battered
old tin despatch-box--the companion of all his wanderings.
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