Dick spoke to him again, but Glen did not hear his words in the anger that had taken possession of him. He had, against his will, allowed himself to be swayed by Clotilde, and carried on the clandestine correspondence that was repugnant to his frank nature; and now he blamed himself for his conduct.
“Look here, Dick,” he cried at last, “we have been behaving like a couple of foolish boys ashamed of their feelings, and the consequence is we have been unable to take the part of those two when they have been urged to accept proposals by their aunts.”
“Don’t say they; it is only Clotilde.”
“I’ll wager it is Marie as well, my boy; else why did you get your note back?”
Dick looked staggered, and gazed in his friend’s face.
“I say, you know, what are you going to do?” he said it last.
“Going straight to the private apartments to see the aunts. Come with me?”
“What, to meet the old dragons, and talk about it?”
“Yes, of course. It is cowardly to hold back.”
“That’s—er—a matter of opinion,” said Dick, who looked uneasy. “I—er—don’t think it would be quite wise to go.”