“You’re no such thing, upon my honour, and I think you’re joking. But I really do regard you as a friend, and I want to tell you no end of things, that I really think will surprise you.”
William Maubray looked in Trevor’s face, gravely and dubiously, and said he, with the air of a man of the world, “Well, I should like to hear—and any advice I can offer, it is not of any great value I fear, is quite at your service.”
“Let’s sit down here,” said Trevor, and side by side they seated themselves on a rustic seat, and in the golden shade of the firs and pines, Vane Trevor began to open his case to William.
CHAPTER XXXII.
A CONFIDENCE
“I don’t know what you’ll think of it after all I’ve said, but I’m going to marry your cousin, Violet Darkwell,” said Vane Trevor, after a little pause, and with a kind of effort, and a rather deprecatory smile.
“Oh?” exclaimed William Maubray, cheerily, and with a smile. But the smile was wan, and the voice sounded ever so far away.