A smile ran along Edward's lips. "I don't think you'd know it, if she did."
"Oh, you're ten years older; you're twenty," bawled Algernon, in an extremity of disgust. "Don't I know what game you're following up? Isn't it clear as day you've got another woman in your eye?"
"It's as clear as day, my good Algy, that you see a portrait hanging in my chambers, and you have heard Mrs. Lovell's opinion of the fact. So much is perfectly clear. There's my hand. I don't blame you. She's a clever woman, and like many of the sort, shrewd at guessing the worst. Come, take my hand. I tell you, I don't blame you. I've been little dog to her myself, and fetched and carried, and wagged my tail. It's charming while it lasts. Will you shake it?"
"Your tail, man?" Algernon roared in pretended amazement.
Edward eased him back to friendliness by laughing. "No; my hand."
They shook hands.
"All right," said Algernon. "You mean well. It's very well for you to preach virtue to a poor devil; you've got loose, or you're regularly in love."
"Virtue! by heaven!" Edward cried; "I wish I were entitled to preach it to any man on earth."
His face flushed. "There, good-bye, old fellow," he added.
"Go to the city. I'll dine with you to-night, if you like; come and dine with me at my Club. I shall be disengaged."