"It depends upon how long it takes me," he answered. "When I come back I am going to be married."
"Who is the lady?" I asked, though, of course, I knew.
"Miss Bulstrode," he said.
"Well," I said, "she—"
"That will do," he said; "I have had all that from the three of them for the last two days. She is a Socialist, and a Suffragist, and all the rest of it, and my ideal helpmate. She is well off, and that will enable me to devote all my time to putting the world to rights without bothering about anything else. Our home will be the nursery of advanced ideas. We shall share together the joys and delights of the public platform. What more can any man want?"
"You will want your dinner early," I said, "if you are going by the eight-thirty. I had better tell cook—"
He interrupted me again.
"You can tell cook to go to the devil," he said.
I naturally stared at him.
"She is going to marry a beastly little rotter of a rent collector that she doesn't care a damn for," he went on.