"Milly mightn't, but you would have blushed for me. I couldn't have supported a comparison with your turtle-dove."
Banks reddened hotly, while he put his hand to his cravat with a conscious laugh.
"Oh, you don't need turtle-doves and things," he answered, "there's something about you—I don't know what it is—that takes the place of them."
"The place of diamond turtle-doves and violet stockings?" laughed Ordway with good-humoured raillery.
"You wouldn't be a bit better looking if you wore them—Milly says so."
"I'm much obliged to Milly and on the whole I'm inclined to think she's right. Do you know," he added, "I'm not quite sure that you are improved by them yourself, except for the innocent enjoyment they afford you."
"But I'm such a common looking chap," said Banks, "I need an air."
"My dear fellow," returned Ordway, while his look went like sunshine to the other's heart, "if you want to know what you are—well, you're a downright trump!"
He stopped before the brick archway of Baxter's warehouse, and an instant later, Banks, looking after him as he turned away, vowed in the luminous simplicity of his soul that if the chance ever came to him he "would go to hell and back again for the sake of Smith."