"I—that is to say—we," began Jack, "for Dick and Bentley are one with me, I say that—that—er, I say that—what the devil do I mean to say, Dick?"
"Why, Pen," I explained, "'tis this stranger—this—er—"
"Tawnish!" says Bentley.
"Aye, Tawnish!" nodded Jack. "Now heark'ee, Pen, I repeat—I say, I repeat—"
"Very frequently, dear," she sighed. "Well?"
"I say," continued Jack, "that I—we—utterly forbid you to see or hear from the fellow again."
"And pray, sir, what have you against him?" says she softly,—only her slender foot tapped a little faster.
"Everything!" says Jack.
"Which is as much as to say—nothing!" she retorted.
"I say," cried Jack, "the man you come to marry shall be a man and not a mincing exquisite with no ideas beyond the cut of his coat."