'Think you ought to marry her?' exclaimed Montgomery indignantly; 'really,
Dick, I didn't think you were—Just remember what she's given up for you.
You owe it to her. Good heavens!'
'Well, you needn't get into a passion; I've had enough of passions for one day.'
The impetuousness of the youth had struck through the fat nonchalance of the man, and he said after a pause:
'Yes, I suppose I do owe it to her.'
The apologetic, easy-going air with which this phrase was spoken maddened Montgomery; he could have struck his friend full in the face, but for the sake of the woman he was obliged to keep his temper.
'Putting aside the question of what you owe and what you don't owe, I'd like to ask you where you could find a nicer wife? She's the prettiest woman in the company, she's making now five pounds a week, and she loves you as well as ever a woman loved a man. I should like to know what more you want.'
This was very agreeable to hear, and after a moment's reflection Dick said:
'That's quite true, my boy, and I like her better than any other woman. I don't think I could get anything better. If it weren't for that infernal jealousy of hers. Really, her temper is no joke.'
'Her temper is all right; she was as quiet as a mouse when you knew her first. Take my word for it, there are excellent reasons for her being a bit put out.'
'What do you mean?'