“If you can find any pleasure in our rather dull home,” replied Hallett. “Good—”
He was going to say, “gracious,” but he refrained, and looked in a puzzled and amused way at Mr Jabez, who had kicked out one leg under the table, and his foot had come in contact with his host.
“Spasm!” said Mr Jabez abruptly; and when Tom Girtley went down with me the old man remained.
“Well, Tom, what do you think of my friends the Halletts?” I said, as we went down to the door.
“I’m delighted with them,” he cried. “I like Hallett; and as for his sister—I say, Tony, are you making play there?”
“Making play?”
“There, don’t be so innocent, man alive! Are you in love with her?”
“What nonsense! No.”
“Then I am,” he said. “I wouldn’t have poached on your preserves, but it’s all over with me now. Alas, poor me! so soon, and I am barely twenty. Good-night, old boy, and thanks for a pleasant evening.”
“Don’t be in such a hurry,” I exclaimed. “I’m going a little way with you.”