Angus nodded.
"Yes. I haven't seen her yet, but intend to shortly. If she refuses me, I'll go out to Africa with you, but if she accepts me----"
"Well?" demanded Laxton, grumpily.
"I'll ask you to be best man at the wedding," replied Angus, laughing.
His friend arose to his feet with a resigned expression of countenance, and held out his hand.
"It's no good arguing with a man in love," he said, in a dismal tone; "but fancy giving up a jolly expedition for the sake of a woman! Let me know soon, as if you don't go I will, for I'm dying to get out of these clothes."
He looked down with disgust at his well-fitting frock coat, grey trousers, and neat patent leather boots, all of which he was willing to change for a rough hunter's dress and a life of danger, such is the instinctive leaning of young Englishmen towards the barbaric delights of their woad-stained ancestors.
"Well, you are a queer stick, old fellow!" said Angus, laughing; "you'll give up all the comforts of life for what?--jungle fever, Liebig's Extract, and a dangerous existence!"
"Don't prose, my boy," retorted Laxton good-humouredly, taking up his hat, "you'd do the same if you weren't in love. Well, goodbye at present. I'll look you up again, and if you want to see me in the meantime, just drop a line to the Globe Trotters' Club.'"
When he departed Angus stood for a moment in deep thought, filling his pipe, with a strange smile on his face.