"Forgiven you! For what, dear sir? Why, don't you begin to guess yet what you have done for me?"
He tucked the old man's hand masterfully under his arm, and drew him to the door.
"God bless you, boy, for what you've done for me and mine.
But—where—where are we going?"
"Out into the world," said Varney, "where Mary Carstairs is waiting for you and me."
"But—but—I feel extremely nervous—does she know?"
"She is going to know in about thirty seconds, and we are the three happiest people in America."
"I think," said the old man palely, "that she—she likes me—"
"In less than a minute," said the young one, "she is going to love you."
His voice betrayed him a little on the words, but he instantly recovered his poise, and, hand on the knob, faced the other with his gayest smile.
"Tell me, Mr. Higginson—did you skip to New York that afternoon, when
Maginnis and I, you know, dashed up here to assassinate you?"