"To win her, if I can."
"Whew!"
"But if you are a gentleman, you will let me say so myself, and not betray my secret."
"Damned if I do! Good luck to you! There's my hand. I believe you're a good fellow after all. I wish I had seen you ride to hounds. They tell me it's a sight."
"Thank you heartily. But what are you going to do?"
"Go back to the sweet-flowing Thames, and the dreams of the desk."
"Well—be a man as well as a gentleman. Don't be a fool."
"Hang it all! I believe it was her money, after all, I was in love with. Good-bye!"
But the poor fellow looked grave enough as he went away. And I trust that, before long, he, too, began to reap some of the good corn that grows on the wintry fields of disappointment.—I have my eye upon him; but it is little an old fogie like me can do with a fellow like Percy.