“Yes, yes, my boy.”
“Well, if you get always trying to thrust Eve down my throat, I shall go away.”
“Richard!”
“I’m tired of being bored about her.”
“But your future wife! Dick, my boy—there, only a few more words—will you take my advice?”
“Yes—no—yes; well, there, I’ll try.”
“Don’t you think, then, that had better come off soon?”
“That! What?”
“Your marriage.”
“No, indeed I don’t, so I tell you. I don’t mean to be tied up to any woman’s apron-string till I have had my fling. There, good night; I’m going to bed.”