“She should have been very grateful,” said Mr. Block.
Mr. Landover frowned. “I'm going to speak to her again as soon as she has regained her strength and composure. Nerves all shot to pieces, you understand. Everything distorted,—er—shot to pieces, as I say. I dare say I should have had more sense than to—er—ahem!—two or three days' rest, that's what she needs, poor thing.”
“Absolutely,” said Mr. Nicklestick.
“You can't tell a woman anything when she's upset,” said Mr. Block, feelingly.
“Miss Clinton is a very charming young lady,” said Mr. Nicklestick, giving his moustache a slight twist. “I should hate to see her lose her head over a fellow like him.”
“She is a splendid girl,” said Landover warmly. “One of the oldest families in New York. She deserves nothing but the best.”
“That's right, that's right,” assented Mr. Nicklestick. “I don't know when I've met a more charming young lady, Mr. Landover.”
“I didn't know you had met her,” observed the banker coldly.
“Oh, yes,” replied Mr. Nicklestick. “We were in the same lifeboat, Mr. Landover, you know,—all night, you know, Mr. Landover.”