“Suppose not,” said Pratt, bitterly. “Way of the world; though I didn’t expect to see it in you.”
“‘Rede me this riddle,’ as Carlyle says,” exclaimed Richard. “What do you mean, man?”
“Only that it’s as well to be off with the old love before you begin with the new.”
“Why, Franky, what a donkey you are!” said Richard, laughing. “You don’t think that I—that they—that—that—well, that I am paying attentions to that young lady—Miss Lane?”
“Well, it looks like it,” said Pratt, grimly.
“Why, my dear boy, nothing has ever been farther from my thoughts,” said Richard. “It’s absurd.”
“Does the young lady think so too?”
Richard started.
“Well, really—I never looked at it in that light. But, oh, it’s ridiculous. Only a few neighbourly attentions; and, besides, the poor girl’s in a most precarious state of health.”
“Hum!” said Pratt. “Well, don’t make the girl think you mean anything. Who are they?”