"He was here, but I was out. Have you seen him?"
"Well, yes,—at a distance."
"Dorian, there is certainly something wrong between you and Lord Sartoris. I have noticed it for some time. I don't ask you what it is, but I entreat you to break through this coldness and be friends with him again." She stoops towards him, and looks earnestly into his face. He laughs a little.
"I'm tremendous friends with him, really," he says, "if you would only try to believe it. I think him no end of a good fellow, if slightly impossible at times. When he recovers from the attack of insanity that is at present rendering him very obnoxious, I shall be delighted to let by-gones be by-gones. But until then——"
"You will tell him of your engagement?"
"Perhaps: if occasion offers."
"No, not perhaps. Go to-day, this very evening, and tell him of it."
"Oh, I can't, really, you know," says Mr. Branscombe, who always finds a difficulty in refusing any one anything.
"You must,"—with decision: "he surely deserves so much at your hands."
"But how few of us get our deserts!" says Dorian, still plainly unimpressed.