"Do you mean to say——"
Hilliard was sitting upright; his voice began on a harsh tremor, and suddenly failed. The other gazed at him in humorous astonishment.
"What the devil do you mean? Even suppose—who made you a judge and a ruler? This is the most comical start I've known for a long time. I was going to tell you that I have made up my mind to marry the girl."
"I see—it's all right——"
"But do you really mean," said Narramore, "that anything else would have aroused your moral indignation?"
Hilliard burst into a violent fit of laughter. His pipe fell to the floor, and broke; whereupon he interrupted his strange merriment with a savage oath.
"It was a joke, then?" remarked his friend.
"Your monstrous dulness shows the state of your mind. This is what comes of getting entangled with women. You need to have a sense of humour."
"I'm afraid there's some truth in what you say, old boy. I've been conscious of queer symptoms lately—a disposition to take things with absurd seriousness, and an unwholesome bodily activity now and then."
"Go on with your tragic story. The girl asked you to find her a place——"