"Oh, hang chicken!" Rathbone answered, his face glowing.
"Never abuse your dinner," Charliewood answered. "Only people who are not able to dine do that. You never know when you may dine again."
As he said this the wicked exhilaration at having successfully played with sure and dexterous fingers upon this young and impressionable nature flowed over the older man. An evil joy in his own powers came to him—a devilish satisfaction in his knowledge of the horrid future. For a moment the Tenant who had lately taken up his abode within Mr. Eustace Charliewood was looking out of his host's eye.
Rathbone laughed carelessly. Then, after the waiter had once more entered and left the room, he bent over the table and began to speak more earnestly.
"I suspect," he said, "that I owe you a great deal in this matter, Charliewood, more than you would care to confess. Now tell me, don't I?"
Charliewood waved his hand.
"Oh, we won't go into that part of the question," he said. "But there's just one thing I would like to say. Your feeling in the matter has been quite splendid, Rathbone. I admire you for the way you have felt and spoken since you have been telling me about your engagement, from first to last. Such a lot of men would have congratulated themselves upon winning the girl away from the other fellow without a thought of what the other fellow would feel. Now look here, I do think you owe William this much reparation——"
"Anything in the world I can do——" Rathbone was beginning.
"Well, there's one thing you can do," Charliewood answered, "you can satisfy him that you're the sort of man to whom he would care to surrender Miss Poole. He is willing and anxious to make friends with you. In fact, I know he is most anxious to meet you. I admit that it may be rather an awkward meeting for you, but I think that you owe it to him, considering the way in which he regards the whole affair."
"Of course I will meet him," Rathbone answered. "I shall be proud to meet a man like that. Any time you like."