“Mr. Skeff Damer, eh?”
“The same. Ah, these drives, these drives! What delicious memories of woodland and romance! I fell desperately in love with that girl, Tony—I pledge you my honor I did. I 've thought a great deal over it all since I started for Ireland, and I have a plan, a plan for us both.”
“What is it?”
“Let us marry these girls. Let us be brothers in law as well as in love. You prefer Alice,—I consent. Take her, take her, Tony, and may you be happy with her!” And as he spoke, he laid his hand on the other's head with a reverend solemnity.
“This is nonsense, and worse than nonsense,” said Tony, angrily; but the other's temper was imperturbable, and he went on: “You fancy this is all dreamland that I 'm promising you: but that is because you, my dear Tony, with many good qualities, are totally wanting in one,—you have no imagination, and, like all fellows denied this gift, you never can conceive anything happening to you except what has already happened. You like to live in a circle, and you do live in a circle,—you are the turnspits of humanity.”
“I am a troublesome dog, though, if you anger me,” said Tony, half fiercely.
“Very possibly, but there are certain men dogs never attack.” And as Skeffy said this, he threw forward his chest, held his head back, and looked with an air of such proud defiance that Tony lay back in a chair and laughed heartily.
“I never saw a great hulking fellow yet that was not impressed with the greatness of his stature,” said Skeffy. “Every inch after five feet six takes a foot off a man's intellectual standard. It is Skeff Darner says it, Tony, and you may believe it.”
“I wish you 'd tell me about Tilney,” said Tony, half irritably.
“I appreciate you, as the French say. You want to hear that I am not your rival,—you want to know that I have not taken any ungenerous advantage of your absence. Tonino mio, be of good comfort,—I preferred the sister; shall I tell you why?”