As he stood there, taking this in, he was accosted by Sir William Tyrrell, who thrust his arm through Peter's in a friendly manner.
"My dear boy," said the Judge heartily, "Violet has just told me the good news. I can only say that I am delighted—most delighted! I have always felt a warm interest in you, ever since that affair of——"
"Of the monkey," said Peter. "I am very glad to hear it, Sir William; but—but I ought to tell you that I am afraid Miss Tyrrell was—a little premature. She misinterpreted a remark of mine, which, in point of fact, referred to somebody else altogether."
"Then you have no more reason than before for assuming that your fiançée has thrown you over. Am I to understand that?"
"No more reason than before," admitted Peter.
"And your uncertainty still continues? Very unsatisfactory, I must say! I do think, my dear fellow, that, in your position, you should have been more careful to refrain from betraying any interest in Violet until you knew that you were free to speak. As it is, you may have cast a shadow upon her young life that it will take years to dispel!"
Peter's heart sank into his boots for very shame at this gentle and almost paternal reproof.
"Yes," continued the worthy Judge, "Violet is a high-minded girl, scrupulously sensitive on points of honour; and, unless the young lady you are under a semi-engagement to should release you of her own free will, I know my daughter too well to doubt that she will counsel you to fulfil your contract and renounce all hope so far as she is concerned."
Peter felt a little easier.