“No,” said Teddy, carelessly, and yet with a slightly uncomfortable air.
“Did you become friends again? Pardon me if I am indiscreet.”
“Hang it! d'Haricot,” he exclaimed; “I'm off women—for good this time.”
“Then she was—what shall I say?”
“She kept me hanging on for a week,” confessed Teddy, “and then suddenly accepted old Horley.”
“Horley—the stout baronet? Why, he might be her father!”
“So Miss Horley thinks, I believe,” grinned Teddy. “His family are sick as dogs about it.”
“And hers?”
“Oh, Sir Henry has twenty thousand a year; they're quite pleased.”
I smiled cynically at this confirmation of my philosophy.