"You are much thicker with her than I ever was. You went to see her at Grex,—when nobody else was there."
"Is Miss Cassewary nobody?"
"Next door to it," said Silverbridge, half jealous of the favours shown to Tregear.
"I thought," said Tregear, "that there would be a closer intimacy between you and her."
"I don't know why you should think so."
"Had you never any such idea yourself?"
"I haven't any now,—so there may be an end of it. I don't think a fellow ought to be cross-questioned on such a subject."
"Then I am very sorry for Mabel," said Tregear. This was uttered solemnly, so that Silverbridge found himself debarred from making any flippant answer. He could not altogether defend himself. He had been quite justified, he thought, in changing his mind, but he did not like to own that he had changed it so quickly.
"I think we had better not talk any more about it," he said, after pausing for a few moments. After that nothing more was said between them on the subject.
Up in town Silverbridge spent two or three days pleasantly enough, while a thunderbolt was being prepared for him, or rather, in truth, two thunderbolts. During these days he was much with Tregear; and though he could not speak freely of his own matrimonial projects, still he was brought round to give some sort of assent to the engagement between Tregear and his sister. This new position which his friend had won for himself did in some degree operate on his judgment. It was not perhaps that he himself imagined that Tregear as a member of Parliament would be worthier, but that he fancied that such would be the Duke's feelings. The Duke had declared that Tregear was nobody. That could hardly be said of a man who had a seat in the House of Commons;—certainly could not be said by so staunch a politician as the Duke.