“Do you mean to marry that girl?”
“Look here, who’s been talking to you about my affairs?” Bart demanded.
“I’ve got eyes in my head.”
“Well, keep them off my business, will you?”
“If you’re thinking of marrying Loveday Trewithian, you’ll find I’m not the only one to take an interest in what you call your business. You young fool, so it is true, is it?”
“I didn’t say so. What if it is? I suppose I can please myself when it comes to getting married!”
“Oh, no, you can’t!” retorted Raymond grimly. “You’re a Penhallow!”
“Oh, to hell with that!” said Bart. “That kind of snobbery’s been dead for years!”
“You’ll discover your little error, my lad, if you go any farther with that girl. What the devil’s the matter with you? Do you see yourself calling Reuben uncle?”
Bart could not help grinning, but he replied: “I shan’t. It’ll all work out quite easily: you’ll see!”