The Chevalier’s eyes flashed. “Ah, you believe me to be altogether base!” he exclaimed.
“Well, you’re out there, because I don’t. Seems to me you’re altogether bacon-brained!”
“But—It would be an infamy! I tell you, I have for that angel a respect, an adoration beyond your comprehension! To steal her in that manner—I, a gamester, an adventurer!—is a villainy too great!”
“Shouldn’t call it a villainy myself,” said Freddy. “It ain’t the thing, of course: not saying it is. Mind, if you didn’t mean to marry her, it wouldn’t do at all!”
“If it were possible, I would marry her at this instant!” the Chevalier said impetuously.
“Well, it ain’t possible. Marry her when you get to France.”
The Chevalier began to pace about the room. “I would take her to my mother. She is not such a one as Madame Broughty, rest assured!”
“Very good notion,” approved Freddy.
“My father—ah, if at first he was a little angry with me, would he not relent when his eyes alighted upon my angel?”
“Bound to,” agreed Freddy.