“Be kind enough to speak your mind more intelligibly, sir, for there is need that we should understand each other here.”
“I will be as explicit as you can desire, sir. Your communication was gratifying to me in so far that it showed me how my old and esteemed friend, Mr. Corrigan, had thrown off the delusion in which he had indulged regarding you, and saw you as I have always thought you,—a clever worldly man, without scruples as to his means when an object had once gained possession of his wishes, and who never could have dreamed of making Miss Leicester his wife were there not other and deeper purposes to be attained by so doing.”
“You are candor itself, sir,” said Linton; “but I cannot feel offence at a frankness I have myself asked for. Pray extend the favor, and say what could possibly be these other and deeper purposes you allude to? What advantages could I propose myself by such an alliance, save increased facilities of conversation with Dr. Tiernay, and more frequent opportunities of indulging in 'tric-trac' with Mr. Corrigan?”
Tiernay winced under the sarcasm, but only said,—
“To divine your motives would be to become your equal in skill and cleverness. I have no pretensions to such excellence.”
“So that you are satisfied with attributing to another objects for which you see no reason and motive, and of which you perceive no drift?”
“I am satisfied to believe in much that I cannot fathom.”
“We will pursue this no further,” said Linton, impatiently. “Let us reverse the medal. Mr. Corrigan's refusal of me, coupled with his uncourteous conduct, may lead to unpleasant results. Is he prepared for such?”
“I have never known him to shrink from the consequences of his own conduct,” replied Tiernay, steadfastly.
“Even though that conduct should leave him houseless?” whispered Linton.