"Thank you. Thank you, Madge," said he, and made a little courteously old-fashioned indication that he drank to her health.
The lady in a sprightly fashion returned his toast, and the junior partner frowned. He disapproved of Mrs. Dunbar, he strongly suspected her of ulterior designs, and he regarded the adoption of Christian names by second cousins as superfluous, and in the circumstances a little indecorous. His long upper lip grew longer as he addressed his relative.
"I was under the impression it was you who encouraged him to go in for this so-called system."
"Oh, but it's possible to overdo everything, you know," said the lady, with a smile whose sweetness he inwardly decided to be compounded of some base imitation of sugar. "Don't you agree with me, Heriot?"
"Absolutely," pronounced her host, with emphasis.
So passionate a lover naturally regretted parting even for a moment from his betrothed, yet under the circumstances Andrew felt decidedly relieved when the ladies left the room, and the three Walkingshaw men drew together at the end of the table. His father passed the port to his sons and then helped himself. Andrew frowned again: he believed in never neglecting an opportunity for salutary criticism.
"Oh, you're going to take port too?"
"I am," said Mr. Walkingshaw, and drinking his glass straight off, filled it afresh.
Andrew drew down the corners of his lips, raised his eyebrows, and glanced across at his brother; but Frank was staring abstractedly at the tablecloth.