"Why, as to that—" I began, and paused, for look at it as I might 'twas plain enough that Mr. Tawnish had certainly scored his first point.
"We all agree," continued Bentley, "that we none of us could do the like; it therefore follows that this Tawnish fellow wins the first hand."
"Sheer trickery!" cries Jack, hurling his wig into the corner—"sheer trickery—damme!"
"Fore gad! Jack," says I, "this fellow's no fool, if he 'quits himself of his other two tasks as featly as this, sink me! but I must needs begin to love him, for look you, fair is fair all the world over and I agree with Bentley, for once, that Mr. Tawnish wins the first hand."
"Ha!" cries Jack, "and because the rogue has tricked us once, would you have us sit by and let Pen throw herself away upon a worthless, fortune-hunting fop—"
"Why, as to that, Jack," says Bentley, "a bargain's a bargain—"
"Pish!" roared Jack, fumbling in his pocket, "why only this very morning I came upon more of his poetry-stuff! Here," he continued, tossing a folded paper on the table in front of Bentley, "it seems the young rascal's been meeting her—over the orchard wall. Read it, Bentley—read it, and see for yourself." Obediently Bentley took up the paper and read as here followeth:
"'Dear Heart—'"
"Bah!" snorted Jack.
"'Dear Heart!'" read Bentley again and with a certain unction: