He now noted that Ross was looking almost ill, his eyes sunken, the lids red at the edges, as if from loss of sleep.

Under Arthur's scrutiny his embarrassment increased to panic.

He nervously shifted the reins, made the horse restless, shook hands with Arthur, reined in, tried to speak, said only, "I must be off--my horse is getting nervous," and was gone.
Arthur looked after him.

"That's the sort of chap I was on the way to being when father pulled me up," he reflected.

"I wonder if I'll ever get sense enough not to have a sneaking envy of him--and regret ?" If he could have looked in upon Ross's mind, he might have been abruptly thrust far along the toilsome road toward his goal.