Forrester had precious little care for his
horseflesh. Brought his horse here in a fair lather, he did."
Coventry, who was attending to a mass of correspondence when Brett was
shown into his study, shook hands with the superficial friendliness that
not infrequently masks a secret hostility between one man and another.
"Hope I'm not disturbing you?" queried Brett lightly.
Eliot shook his head.
"I've no particular love for my present task," he replied, with a gesture
towards his littered desk. "I'm trying to overtake arrears of
correspondence. Sit down and have a smoke." He tendered his case as he
spoke.
"Price you've got to pay for three weeks' gallivanting, I suppose?"
suggested Brett, helping himself to a cigarette and lighting up.
"I should hardly describe my recent absence from home as--gallivanting,"
returned Eliot, with a brief flash of reminiscence in his eyes.
"No? Well, you don't look as if it had agreed with you too well, whatever
it was," commented the other candidly. "I should say you've dropped about
half a stone in weight since I last saw you."
"Just as well--with the hunting season commencing," returned Eliot
indifferently.
Brett nodded, and, changing the subject, proceeded to explain the object of
his visit.
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