"Better come and try," she said, smiling. "Don't forget that I've seen you look the part, anyway—your wig and gown suited you very well."
"Theatrical properties," he replied, laughing. "The wig was too small, and the gown too long. Well—we'll see. But in the meantime, I'm going away for four months—to India."
"To India—four months!" she exclaimed. "That sounds nice."
"Legal business," said Collingwood. "I shall be back about the end of April—and then I shall probably come down here again, and seriously consider Eldrick's suggestion. I'm very much inclined to take it."
"Then—you'd leave London?" she asked.
"I've little to leave there," replied Collingwood. "My father and mother are dead, and I've no brothers, no sisters—no very near relations. Sounds lonely, doesn't it?"
"One can feel lonely when one has relations," said Nesta.
"Are you saying that from—experience?" he asked.
"I often wish I had more to do," she answered frankly. "What's the use of denying it? I've next to nothing to do, here. I liked my work at the hospital—I was busy all day. Here———"
"If I were you," interrupted Collingwood, "I'd set to work nursing in another fashion. Look after your brother! Get him going at something—even if it's playing golf. Play with him! It would do him—and you—all the good in the world if you got thoroughly infatuated with even a game. Don't you see?"
