'Hey—how—what the deyvil—are you smitten in that quarter too?' asked Sleath.
'No—what do you mean?'
'Thought you were, perhaps, that's all,' was the somewhat sulky response.
'I am not what you think,' replied Colville, quietly. 'I only warn you to adopt a different tone in reference to these young ladies, and to take care what you are about!'
'Now, what the devil is all this to him?' thought the baronet, malevolently; and he had hardihood enough to give his thought expression, on which Colville's face grew darker still.
'Sir Redmond,' said he, 'there is no use in beating about the bush with you. I have often heard you say that there was but one excuse in this world for matrimony.'
'Yes—well?'
'Miss Ellinor Wellwood is poor, as you may say, yet you seem very attentive in that quarter.'
Confounded at what he deemed the presumption of all these queries, Sleath stuck his glass into his right eye, and glared through it at his companion with undoubted surprise.
'Attention,' he muttered; 'not at all! Who is thinking of matrimony? And if I were so, may I ask what it is to you?'