“Surely not.”
“To be plain then, my lord, I am going to propose in due form for the hand of Miss Clotilde.”
Lord Henry stopped short, with his eyes half-closed, and one foot beating the gravel as if he were thinking out an answer to the remark made by the man who held his arm.
“Well, my lord, what have you got to say?”
“Not much,” said Lord Henry, rousing himself; “but I will be frank and plain to you, Mr Elbraham, though no one is more surprised at this change in my prospects than I. You are going to propose for the hand of Miss Clotilde, one of the most beautiful women I ever saw.”
“Eh!” exclaimed Elbraham, whose jaw dropped, “don’t say that.”
“But I do say it,” said Lord Henry, smiling, and looking very dreamy and thoughtful: “the most beautiful woman I ever saw—except her sister—for whose hand I shall become a candidate myself.”
“Hah!” ejaculated Mr Elbraham, with a sigh of relief; “then look here, my lord, under these circumstances we shall be brothers-in-law.”
“Probably so.”
“Then we’ll have no more ceremony. Look here, my lord, I’m a plain man, and I don’t boast of my blood nor my position, but I’m warm; and a fellow can’t find a better friend than I can be when I take to a man. I like you. You’ve got blood, and a title, and all that sort of thing; but that isn’t all: you’re a gentleman, without any haw-haw, sit-upon-a-fellow airs. Moorpark, there’s my hand, and from henceforth I’ll back you up in anything.”