"I--I have brought my friend down-stairs.

He wants to thank you before he goes." As he remained standing in the hall the two women stepped to the door.
To their surprise, half reclining on a cane sofa was the wounded man, and what could be seen of his slight figure was wrapped in a dark serape.

His beardless face gave him a quaint boyishness quite inconsistent with the mature lines of his temples and forehead.

Pale, and in pain, as he evidently was, his blue eyes twinkled with intense amusement.

Not only did his manner offer a marked contrast to the sombre uneasiness of his companion, but he seemed to be the only one perfectly at his ease in the group around him.
"It's rather rough making you come out here to see me off," he said, with a not unmusical laugh that was very infectious, "but Ned there, who carried me downstairs, wanted to tote me round the house in his arms like a baby to say ta-ta to you all.