"Carruthers--Capel Carruthers. County family down in Kent."
"Go ahead!" said Deane, tossing off his wine, refilling his glass, and pushing the bottle to his companion; "and this old, gentleman is not anxious about himself, you say; where is your bad influence likely to fall, then?"
"On his niece, who lives with them."
"What's her name?"
"Clare. Clare Carruthers! Isn't it a pretty name?"
"It is so, sir! And this niece. What's she like, now?"
George Dallas tried to throw a knowing gleam into his eyes, which the perpetual motion of the decanter had rendered somewhat bleared and vacant, as he looked across at his companion, and said with a half-laugh: "You seem to take a great interest in my family, Deane?"
Not one whit discomposed, Philip Deane replied: "Study of character as a citizen of the world, and a general desire to hear what all gals are like. Is Miss Clare pretty?"
"I've only seen her once, and that not too clearly. But she struck me as being lovely."
"Lovely, eh? And the old man won't have you at any price? That's awkward, that is!"