“Blue-devilled!” replied the Duke, meeting his look.
“What a complete hand you are, Gilly!” said Matthew impatiently. “I only wish I stood in your shoes! There you are, your pockets never to let, everything made easy for you, all the toad-eaters in town ready to serve you, and you complain—”
“Peace, halfling!” interrupted Gideon. “Sit down, Gilly! Tell me all that is in your mind!”
“Too much!” said the Duke, sinking into a chair at the table. “Oh, that reminds me! Would you like to offer me your felicitations? You won’t be quite the first to do so, but—but you won’t care to be backward! I have this day fulfilled the expectations of my family—not to mention those of every busybody in town—and entered upon a very eligible engagement. You will see the notice in the Gazette, presently, and all the society journals. I do hope Scriven will not forget any of these!”
“Oh!” said Gideon. He pitched the butt of his cigar into the fire, and cast another of those shrewd, appraising looks at the Duke. “Well, that certainly calls for a bowl of punch,” he said. “Harriet, eh?”
The Duke nodded.
“I don’t wish to enrage you, my little one, but you have my felicitations. She will do very well for you.”
The Duke looked up quickly. “Yes, of course! What a fellow I am to be talking in such a fashion! Don’t regard it! She is everything that is amiable and obliging.”
“Well, I’m sure I wish you very happy,” said Matthew. “Of course we all knew that you were going to offer for her.”
“Of course you did!” agreed Gilly, with immense cordiality.