"Capital," answered his friend, refilling his glass and holding it up to the light with the gusto of a connoisseur. "Capital; but, Vincent, you are a wicked dog."
"Think so?" drawled Vincent quite proudly, surveying his handsome face in an opposite mirror.
"Yes," said Grey, "I am bad enough; but shoot me if I could be the first to lead a woman astray."
"You sneaking poltroon," laughed Vincent; "if you did not, somebody else would."
"That does not follow," answered Grey; "don't you believe that there are virtuous women?"
"Ha! ha! you ought to have your picture taken now," laughed Vincent. "Propound that question, most innocent Joseph, at our next club-meeting, will you? The explosion of a basket of Champagne corks would be nothing to the fizz it would make. A virtuous woman! no woman, my dear boy, was ever virtuous but for lack of temptation and opportunity."
"I will never subscribe to that," said Grey, with a flushed cheek; "no—not as I honor my mother and my sister."
Vincent's only answer was a slight elevation of the eyebrow, as he pushed the bottle again toward Grey.
"No, thank you; no more for me," answered Grey, in disgust, as he left the room.