“Oh, yes, I forgot—so you told me. Well, give my love to all our friends at Sheffield when you do return. By the way, Emma was in the last swim—wasn’t she?”
“Yes, she and my sister got six months’ each.”
“Ah, Master Charlie, you were always sweet on that girl.”
“Nonsense—no such thing,” returned Peace, indignantly.
“Ah! yes you were; you can’t deceive me. I tell you you were sweet on her, and may be now for aught I know. Well, there’s many a worse sort than Emma.”
“A jolly sight worse,” said Peace.
His companion laughed.
“There, didn’t I tell you so? Ah! Charlie, you can’t deceive me. Well, I should like to see Emma. Tell her to give me a call if she should come to London, which it’s likely enough she may do.”
“All right, I’ll tell her—that is, if we meet again.”
The two quondam companions continued their conversation about matters past and present for upwards of an hour, after which he bade Laura Stanbridge farewell and “took his hook,” as he termed it.