"Yes," was the quick answer.
"By Jove! if I didn't think so. Ah! you're a gay deceiver, Sidney, after the bank doors have closed upon you."
On another occasion, and under similar circumstances, he said, in a quick, abrupt way, that almost bordered on embarrassment—
"Has your father any property of his own?"
"No."
"Your salary supports yourself and him entirely?"
"Yes, and leaves something to spare."
Maurice whistled, took up a lead pencil on Sidney's desk, and began scribbling with it on his finger nails. Suddenly he laid the pencil down, saying—
"Oh! that's a thundering sight too bad, old fellow!—we're all Hinchfords, and must alter that. How are you going to marry?—and when?"
"In the usual fashion—and in ten years' time."