They had not gone far when Pringle asked his companion whither he was bound. Prescott was too absorbed to hear the question, but, on its repetition, muttered something about an "engagement out Kensington way."
"Ah!" said Pringle, with the nearest approach to a sigh, "ride a cock horse, eh? the old game! Look here, Jim, old fellow. I'm not clever, you know, but I know how many blue beans make five; and I'm not strait-laced or pious or any thing of that sort, but I'm very fond of you, and I tell you this won't do!"
"What won't do?" asked Prescott, with a flaming face.
"Why, this Kate Mellon business, Jim. It's on hot and strong, I know. You've been down in the mouth all the time she was away; you met her at the station yesterday, and probably you're going up to her place to-day. Now you know, Jim, I've seen more of life than you, and I tell you this is all wrong."
"Why, you don't imagine that there's any thing--?"
"I don't imagine any thing at all. I haven't got any imagination, I think. I'm the most matter-of-fact beggar that ever walked; but I know you're confoundedly spooney and hard hit, and in a wrong quarter. Now, Jim, pull yourself together, old man, and cut it."
"I can't, George," groaned Prescott, raising his hat and tossing the hair back from his forehead; "I can't. You don't know how I love that woman, old fellow. I'd die for her; I'd go out and be shot at once, if it would save her a pang. I hate any one to come near her, and I'm always thinking of her, and longing to be with her."
"I felt just like that once for a female tobacconist in Briggate, at Leeds," said Mr. Pringle after a pause. "Deuced nice girl she was too, and what thundering bad cigars she sold! I'm very glad I didn't die for her, though. I got my appointment just in time, and came up to town without asking her to fly with me to distant climes. She wouldn't have known what 'climes' meant, I think. Now, look here, Jim; you'd better do something of the same sort. Apply for sick-leave (Glauber will give you a certificate), and go home and have some shooting, and stay with your people, and you'll come back cured. Only cut it at once. Don't go there to-day; come with me. I've got a little business to do that won't take half an hour, and then I'm going to spar with Bob Travers, and you shall see me polish him off with a new 'Mendoza tip' that I learnt last night. Now, you'll come, won't you, Jim?"
"Not to-day, George. I know you're right in every word you say; and yet I can't give it up yet--at all events to-day. I must see her, I've got something special to say to her, and the time's getting on. Good-by, old fellow; I know you mean well; and I'll come out all right yet. God bless you, old boy! Hi! Hansom!" and Mr. Prescott jumped into a cab, murmured an inaudible address to the driver, and was whirled away.
Mr. Pringle remained on the kerb-stone, shaking his head and looking after the departing Hansom. "James Prescott is in for it," said he to himself; "is decidedly in for it. So, by the way, is George Pringle. If I don't pay Wilkins that twenty pounds to-night, I shall be County-Courted, as safe as houses. I never have put my hand to any bill before; but needs must, I suppose. So I'll just step up and see old Scadgers." And Mr. Pringle struck across the Strand, in a northerly direction.