"Yes, my wife," repeated Stafford grimly. "What about it?"
"Nothing—nothing at all, my dear fellow," he stammered, looking narrowly at his companion to see if he was sober, "allow me to congratulate you."
There was an awkward pause. Then suddenly Stafford broke into a loud peal of laughter. His momentary ill humor had passed. Unable to account for the sudden change of mood, Hadley came to the conclusion that the railroad man was enjoying a joke at his expense.
"You were guying me, eh?" he laughed.
Stafford hiccoughed and shook his head. With drunken gravity he replied:
"No, siree—sure as your life—she's going to marry me."
Calling the waiter, he motioned to him to open another bottle of wine.
"We'll drink to her health, Hadley, old top. Nicest girl in the world!"
The champagne was uncorked and the railroad promoter poured out the wine with an unsteady hand. Lifting his glass he cried with mock sentimentality:
"To Virginia—my bride!"