"Look here, old boy," expostulated Richard Fleet, who was fishing after a pocket-lighter. "Yes?"
"Stop pacing up and down like a Norman baron. Get it off your chest Spit it out You're making me nervous."
"All right" agreed Martin. "It's about Jenny. I've been in love with Jenny for more than three years, though I've only seen her twice. I have reason to think she feels the same way about me. I haven't formally asked her to marry me, but we intend to get married. I hate to tell you this, but there it is."
Again silence. Richard sat partly sideways, motionless, his leg over the chair-arm, pipe and lighter also held motionless, looking up at his companion. His grey eyes were without any shade of expression. Tick-tick, tick-tick went the clock in the other room, noticeable now as well as audible.
"I'm sorry to tell you this!" Martin shouted. "But…"
Then he saw that there was a shade of expression, slowly moving in like a new blood in Richard's face, though for a second he could not interpret it. It was tinged with incredulity, but this did not predominate. Then Martin realized. The feeling was relief. Slowly young Fleet sat upright and expelled his breath.
"Thank God!" he said.
Chapter 5
The words were so startling that Martin backed away until he bumped into the iron stove in the middle of the room. Richard Fleet hastened to correct any wrong impression he might have made.
"Mind!" he said, jumping to his feet and pointing with the pipe. "Jenny's the world's best. I'd do anything for her. I'm so fond of her that sometimes I've almost' thought this plan would work. “But—"