"Maud can play and Miss Qian," said the widow. "I'll talk to Mr. Beecot, unless he prefers the fascination of the green cloth."
"I would rather talk to you," replied Paul, bowing.
Mrs. Krill nodded, and then went out of the room with the younger ladies. The three gentlemen filled their glasses with port, and Hay passed round a box of cigars. Soon they were smoking and chatting, in a most amicable fashion. Lord George talked a great deal about racing and cards, and his bad luck with both. Hay said very little and every now and then cast a glance at Paul, to see how he was taking the conversation. At length, when Sandal became a trifle vehement on the subject of his losses, Hay abruptly changed the subject, by refilling his glass and those of his companions. "I want you to drink to the health of my future bride," he said.
"What," cried Paul, staring, "Miss Krill?"
"The same," responded Hay, coldly. "You see I have taken your advice and intend to settle. Pash presented me to the ladies when next they came to his office, and since then I have been almost constantly with them. Miss Krill's affections were disengaged, and she, therefore, with her mother's consent, became my promised wife."
"I wish you joy," said Lord George, draining his glass and filling another, "and, by Jove! for your sake, I hope she's got money."
"Oh, yes, she's well off," said Hay, calmly, "and you, Paul?"
"I congratulate you, of course," stammered Beecot, dazed; "but it's so sudden. You haven't known her above a month."
"Five weeks or so," said Hay, smiling, and sinking his voice lower, he added, "I can't afford to let grass grow under my feet. This young ass here might snap her up, and Mrs. Krill would only be too glad to secure a title for Maud."