“‘Not to a soul,’ I replied; ‘though I confess I often feel tempted to.’
“‘I sincerely trust you never will,’ he said, in a tone of alarm. ‘You can have no conception of the misery the whole thing causes me. I cannot understand it. What possible affinity there can be between myself and that disgusting little snob passes my comprehension. I assure you, my dear Mac, the knowledge that I was a ghoul, or a vampire, would cause me less nausea than the reflection that I am one and the same with that odious little Whitechapel bounder. When I think of him every nerve in my body—’
“‘Don’t think about him any more,’ I interrupted, perceiving his strongly-suppressed emotion. ‘You didn’t come here to talk about him, I’m sure. Let us dismiss him.’
“‘Well,’ he replied, ‘in a certain roundabout way it is slightly connected with him. That is really my excuse for inflicting the subject upon you. You are the only man I can speak to about it—if I shall not bore you?’
“‘Not in the least,’ I said. ‘I am most interested.’ As he still hesitated, I asked him point-blank what it was.
“He appeared embarrassed. ‘It is really very absurd of me,’ he said, while the faintest suspicion of pink crossed his usually colourless face; ‘but I feel I must talk to somebody about it. The fact is, my dear Mac, I am in love.’
“‘Capital!’ I cried; ‘I’m delighted to hear it.’ (I thought it might make a man of him.) ‘Do I know the lady?’
“‘I am inclined to think you must have seen her,’ he replied; ‘she was with me on the pier at Yarmouth that evening you met me.’
“‘Not ’Liza!’ I exclaimed.
“‘That was she,’ he answered; ‘Miss Elizabeth Muggins.’ He dwelt lovingly upon the name.