“Of course, of course,” Lord Blair replied. “Very right, very proper. But ...” he paused, “there is no hurry, is there?”
“I’d like to have a son and heir,” the other responded. “You see there’s a good deal of property involved. Luckily, I need not marry for money: I’ve got plenty.” He was anxious to announce his eligibility.
“Well,” said Lord Blair, speaking out of the blacker depths of his scheming mind, “take my advice, my dear fellow, and don’t marry yet awhile. ‘Marry in haste and repent at leisure,’ you know—a very true adage. You have a long life before you ... plenty of time, plenty, to make your choice with care.”
“Yes, I’m pretty healthy,” he answered; and Lord Blair looked at him critically, hoping that he was mistaken.
“Does the climate agree with you out here?” he asked, hopefully.
“Well, I can’t say I exactly enjoyed the summer,” Lord Barthampton laughed. “A heavy fellow like me feels the heat.”
Lord Blair’s spirits rose. “A little tightness, perhaps, at the back of the head, eh?” His thoughts were running on the possibilities of apoplexy.
“No,” he answered, “but I’m always in such a devil of a sweat.”
“Yes, yes, very natural, I’m sure,” Lord Blair murmured. “And a little short of breath sometimes, I dare say?”
The younger man stared at him warily. He was wondering whether the questions were those of a prospective father-in-law; and he decided that it was his policy to show as clean a bill of health as possible.