"True enough," replied Jim, winking. "Let us pay a visit to--to--Miss Slarge."
"We might do worse," said Mallow; and sighed.
"I expect we'll do better," was Aldean's response.
Mallow groaned. "Oh, Jim, Jim, I am a fool. I know that she is going to marry this Carson; and yet--and yet I cannot help making myself miserable by calling to see her."
"Buck up, old man, she isn't spliced yet!"
"James, you are incurably vulgar."
"If you pay me any more compliments, Mallow, I shall forget the respect to my former tutor, and chuck you out of this gangway. Come for a walk."
So Mallow allowed himself to be persuaded, and in due time, as he knew they inevitably would do, they found themselves in the grounds of the Manor House.
Striding up and down the lawn was an elderly lady with a lack-lustre eye and the gait of a grenadier.
"How do you do, Miss Slarge," said the visitors, almost simultaneously. And they waited for the priestess of Minerva to wake up and return their salutation.