"Will you—congratulate me, Dick?"
"My dear fellow," cried the Viscount, springing up, "with all my heart!"
"Dick," said Barnabas, as their hands met, "would you give me your hand as readily had it been—Clemency?"
Now here the Viscount's usually direct gaze wavered and fell, while his pallid cheek flushed a dull red. He did not answer at once, but his sudden frown was eloquent.
"Egad, Bev, I—since you ask me—I don't think I should."
"Why?"
"Oh well, I suppose—you see—oh, I'll be shot if I know!"
"You—don't love her, do you, Dick?"
"Clemency? Of course not—that is—suppose I do—what then?"
"Why then she'd make a very handsome Viscountess, Dick."