It was no use concealing, or attempting to conceal, anything from my inquisitive friend; so I mixed my grog, and opened my whole heart; told how I had been conducting myself for the entire preceding fortnight; and when I concluded, sat silently awaiting Power’s verdict, as though a jury were about to pronounce upon my life.
“Have you ever written?”
“Never; except, perhaps, a few lines with tickets for the theatre, or something of that kind.”
“Have you copies of your correspondence?”
“Of course not. Why, what do you mean?”
“Has Mrs. Dal ever been present; or, as the French say, has she assisted at any of your tender interviews with the young ladies?”
“I’m not aware that one kisses a girl before mamma.”
“I’m not speaking of that; I merely allude to an ordinary flirtation.”
“Oh, I suppose she has seen me attentive.”
“Very awkward, indeed! There is only one point in your favor; for as your attentions were not decided, and as the law does not, as yet, permit polygamy—”