“The possibility had crossed my mind,” agreed Mr. Beaumaris. “I am sure I ought not to let it weigh with me: Miss Tallant certainly would not.”
“Well, damn it, I think that prosy fool, Bridlington, was right for once in his life! You’ve gone stark, staring mad!”
“Very true: I have known it this half-hour and more.”
Lord Fleetwood looked at him in some concern. “You know, Robert, if you’re not careful you’ll find yourself walking to the altar before you’re much older!” he said.
“No, she has the poorest opinion of me,” replied Mr. Beaumaris. “I perceive that my next step must be to pursue the individual known to us as ‘ole Grimsby’.”
“What?” gasped Fleetwood. “She never asked that of you!”
“No, but I feel she expects it of me.” He saw that the mention of the sweep’s name had made Jemmy look up at him in quick alarm, and said reassuringly: “No, I am not going to give you to him.”
“Robert, never in all the years I’ve known you have I seen you make such a cake of yourself!” said his friend, with brutal frankness. “First you let the little Tallant bamboozle you into saddling yourself with this horrid brat, and now you talk of meddling with a chimney-sweep! You! Why, it’s unheard of!”
“Yes, and, what is more, I have a shrewd suspicion that a benevolent career is going to prove extremely wearing,” said Mr. Beaumaris thoughtfully.
“I see what it is,” said Fleetwood, after regarding his profile for a few moments. “You’re so piqued she don’t favour you you’ll go to any lengths to fix your interest with the girl.”