“Did she? Now, Percy, I don’t want to hurt your feelings. But how many men do you suppose she has told the same thing to—in her time?”
“None. Her marriage was only one of convenience. She was forced into it.”
“Of course. They always are. Now, supposing she had told me, for instance, she couldn’t do without me? What then?”
“You? Why, you never set eyes on her till this morning.”
“No. Of course not. I was only putting a case. Again, she’s rather older than you.”
“There you’re wrong. She’s a year or two younger. She told me so.”
Blachland, happening to know that she was, in fact, five or six years the young fellow’s senior, went on appreciating the humours of the situation. And really these were great.
“By Jove! Listen!” said the other suddenly, as a chattering and clucking of fowls was audible outside. “There’s a jackal or a bushcat or something getting at the fowls. They roost in those low trees just outside. I’ll get the gun, and if we put out the light, we may get a shot at him from the window.”
“Not much,” returned Blachland decisively. “The window’s at the head of my bed, not yours. I wouldn’t have it opened this beastly cold night for a great deal. Besides, think what a funk you’d set up among the women by banging off a gun at this ungodly hour. The hens must take their chance. Now look here, Percy,” he went on, speaking earnestly and seriously, “take a word of warning from one who has seen a great deal more of the world, and the crookedness thereof, than you have, and chuck this business—for all serious purposes I mean. Have your fun by all means—even to a fast and furious flirtation if you’re that way disposed. But—draw the line at that, and draw it hard.”
“I wouldn’t if I could, and I couldn’t if I would. Hilary—we are engaged.”