“Why, you look as white as chalk.”
“Reflection of your sickly face, I suppose,” said Saul, with a forced laugh, “or else I turned pale at the idea of your marrying.”
“Why?”
“Such a loss to bachelors’ society.”
“Don’t be alarmed; I may break out again now and then; but if I do, don’t let old Lawrence touch me.”
“No; that was unfortunate. But look here, George, have you thought any more about that investment?”
“No, how could I—upset like this? Here, I’m faint. Ring that bell.”
Saul touched the hand-bell, and Mrs Denton came hurrying down.
“Here, old girl, bring some whiskey-and-soda.”
Mrs Denton lifted the corner of her apron, and began to pleat it.