"Where the deuce are you two men going?" Robert asked, surprised. Somehow, I seemed to catch a joyful rather than a sorrowful note in his tones.
"An important conference at midnight, and heaven only knows how long it may last," said Jack. "I wish you would go along, Bob."
"He can't go now, anyhow," said the pretty little wife. "He has got to stay now, whether he will or no. William will see to it that we women get home all right,"—and she busied herself with the salad dishes.
Suddenly I caught Robert's eye, and we stared hard at each other.
"Chuck, you old pirate," he said presently, "what do you mean by coming around and making love to my sister, and getting her to promise to marry you? You know you aren't good enough for her."
I confess to no small embarrassment. "I—I know it!"
"What do you mean by it, then?"
"Why—er—that is—Confound you, Bob, I couldn't help it, and besides, I didn't want to help it! And if you want to have it out—"
"Oh, pshaw! You know just as well as I do that it is against the law to hit a man that wears glasses. We'll call it quits if you'll promise that in the days to come you'll let me hang around your hymeneal shack once in a while."
"Why, if you put it that way!"—and we were laughing and shaking hands again across the table, much to the relief of all concerned.