Mark shuffled uneasily, and began to drive a willing horse too fast.
"My brother, Archie, will sit as Romeo."
"Ah! When they were standing together to-night, somehow I thought of Verona at once."
"Pynsent," said Mark desperately, "I may as well tell you that I—I l-l-love Betty Kirtling. I loved her when she was a b-baby. I loved her when she was a g-girl. And it all came back to-night. There never has been anyone else."
"Um," said Pynsent.
"Tell me frankly what's in your m-mind."
"I'm trying to fit you into it—as Romeo."
"I'm an imbecile, of course, but I f-feel like Romeo. There—it's out."
"So is your cigar. Take a pull on yourself, man, and on that horse, too! You're not an imbecile. Alps lie between you and Miss Kirtling, but the Alps have been scaled before and will be again."
"If I could paint a great picture——"