"I should like to know, Warburton, how much of this is satire, and how much serious advice. Perhaps it's all satire—and rather savage?"
"No, no, I'm speaking quite frankly."
"But, look here, there's the awkward fact that I really have gone rather far with the Crosses."
Will made a movement of all but angry impatience.
"Do you mean," he asked quickly, "that she has committed herself in any way?"
"No, that she certainly hasn't," was Franks, deliberate reply, in a voice as honest as the smile which accompanied it.
"My advice then is—break decently off, and either do what I suggested, or go and amuse yourself with millionaire Sir Luke, and extend your opportunities."
Franks mused.
"You are serious about Rosamund?" he asked, after a glance at Warburton's set face.
"Think it over," Will replied, in a rather hard voice. "I saw the thing like that. Of course, it's no business of mine; I don't know why I interfere; every man should settle these matters in his own way. But it was a thought I had, and I've told it you. There's no harm done."