Dick wrung his friend's hand.
"Jack," he said, "I beg your pardon. You're a trump!"
"Oh, I knew that all the time," responded Jack. "It may comfort you a little to know that it hasn't been much of an engagement. I've been shamefully neglectful of my position. Now of course an engaged man is supposed to show his ardor, to take little liberties, and be generally loving, you know."
Dick grew fiery red, and shrank back. Jack laughed explosively.
"Jealous, old man?" he demanded provokingly. "Well, I won't tease you any more. I haven't so much as kissed her hand."
Dick's rather combative look changed instantly into shamefacedness, and he shook hands again. He turned away quickly, but as quickly turned back again once more to grasp the hand of his chum.
"Jack Neligage," he declared, "you're worth more than a dozen of my best heroes, and a novelist can't say more than that!"
"Gad! You'd better put me in a novel then," was Jack's response. "They won't believe I'm real though; I'm too infernally virtuous."
A knock at the door interrupted them, and proved to be the summons of the janitor, who announced that a lady wished to see Mr. Fairfield.
"Don't let her stay long," Jack said, retreating to his room. "I can't get out till she is gone, and I want to go down town. I've got to order the horses to take my fiancée out for a last ride. It's to break my engagement, so you ought to want it to come off."