"I've been miserable without you," he said. "And it's all your fault. You made me sure it was no use. Don't you remember how you said one day that marrying a cousin must be like paying a long dull visit to relatives?—a thing you hated."
"And you took that to yourself?"
"Naturally. I supposed you thought it merciful to choke me off, so I shut up like an oyster. And then there was Dick——"
"He never existed. Oh, Jim, we've both been rather silly, haven't we? But luckily we're both very young."
"I'm not. I'm almost old enough to be your father."
"You're just the right age for a lover. To think that by one speech which I made merely in order to be mildly witty, I came near spoiling the whole show! But you ought to have known better. You're such a distant, uttermost, outlying cousin—a hill brigand of a cousin claiming my relationship or my life."
"I'm going to claim more than either now."
"My gracious! I do hope so, or I shall have come to visit you in vain."
Nobody thought of the unfortunate cabman, but he was not neglectful of his own interests; and having covered his horses and refreshed himself with secret stores of wine and bread, he was asleep under an immense umbrella when, after dark, his existence was remembered. By this time, it was too late in Jim's opinion for Peter to go and call at Princess Della Robbia's. Mary would have begun to dress for dinner, if she were at home; and, besides, a place for Peter to spend the night must be found without delay. She could visit Mary in the morning.