Marston looked at Gurth for a moment, and then said quietly, ‘My dear fellow, I thought I told you we were old friends. I’m glad you like Ruth, for when we’re married you can come and be our guest.’
Gurth started back as though Marston had struck him a blow.
‘That lady—your wife?’ he stammered.
‘Yes, some day; why not?’ said Marston. ‘I’m doing well, I’m wealthy, and I shall soon command a good position. Why shouldn’t I marry Ruth Adrian?’
‘I don’t know,’ stammered Gurth, hardly knowing what he was saying. ‘Why, I always looked upon you as a—as a——’
‘Say it,’ cried Marston fiercely; ‘say it, Gurth Egerton. You always looked upon me as a scamp, as a penniless adventurer. Bah! Times have changed for both of us. You are a rich man now; you are ambitious, so am I. I have wiped out my old past as cleanly as you have yours. Let it be a race between us now if you like, Gurth Egerton—a race for wealth, a race for fame, for what you will. I shall beat you though you’ve had a ten years start of me.’
Gurth Egerton looked at his companion in wonder. His tone was one half of triumph, half of defiance.
‘As you will, Marston,’ he said quietly; ‘but let us start fair. Is there any absolute engagement between you and this lady?’
‘No,’ said Marston; ‘but she is perfectly aware of my feelings towards her. We were engaged before—well, before I went abroad.’
‘Oh, I see; then you merely hope for a renewal of old ties?’