"I am obliged for the sermon, sir. Shall we leave to-morrow?"
"Egad, you are in a fluster," his father smiled. "Well, to be sure, he is a teasing fellow, the beautiful Geoffrey."
Harry made an exclamation. "You'll forgive me, sir, if I say you are talking nonsense."
"Oh Lud, yes," his father chuckled.
"Whether I am agreeable to women, whether Mr. Waverton is agreeable to me—odds life, sir, I don't trouble my head about such things. Pray, why should you? As well sit down and cry because my eyes are not the same colour."
"No. No. There is something taking about that, Harry," his father remonstrated placidly.
"When you please to be in earnest, sir," Harry cried, "if this affair of yours is in earnest—" "Oh, you may count on that." Colonel Boyce was still enjoying himself.
"Then I am ready for it. And the sooner the better."
"Hurry is a bad horse. The truth is, something more hangs on this affair than Mr. Harry's whims. Oh, damme, I don't blame you, though. He is tiresome, our Geoffrey."
"Why, sir, if we have to waste time, we might waste it more comfortably than with the Waverton family. Shall we say to-morrow?"