"Hum!" said Bellew.
"And lastly sir, though it is usually the first,—there is dissipation,
Mr. George. Drink, sir,—the consolation of bottles, and—"
"Exactly!" nodded Bellew. "Now Baxter," he pursued, beginning to draw diagrams on the table-cloth with the salt-spoon, "knowing me as you do, what course should you advise me to adopt?"
"You mean, Mr. George,—speaking as between man and man of course,—you mean that you are in the unfortunate position of being—crossed in your affections, sir?"
"Also—heart-broken, Baxter."
"Certainly, sir!"
"Miss Marchmont marries the Duke of Hyde,—in three weeks, Baxter."
"Indeed, sir!"
"You were, I believe, aware of the fact that Miss Marchmont and I were as good as engaged?"
"I had—hem!—gathered as much, sir."