“No.”
“Oh, come then, it’s not so bad after all!”
“I only wish it was so bad, as you call it.”
“Then why are you not? Won’t she have you?” enquired the other with a jeer in his eyes.
“Because I have only fifty pounds a year and my pay, as long as my mother lives, and, out in this climate, poverty and screwing is the very devil. If I can pass and get some staff appointment we shall manage all right.”
“Is she pretty? But I need not ask you; of course she is an angel,” said Captain La Touche ferociously.
“She is very pretty. She is more than pretty, she is charming.”
“And supposing some other fellow steps in, and snaps her up whilst you are stewing over your Hindustani. How will you like that?”
George’s face was a study in complacency. “I am not afraid,” he said quietly.
“You ought to have spoken, and offered yourself at any rate.”