“You seem to think it very pleasant,” said Charles.
“I wish it was pleasanter,” said Harry; “but pleasant or no, I must tell my story straight. I ran in in a hurry, you know, as if I only wanted to pay over the twenty pounds—you mind.”
“Ay,” said Charles, “I wish to heaven I had it back again.”
“Well, I don’t think it made much difference in the matter of love and liking, I’ll not deny; but I looked round, and I swore I wondered any one would live in such a place when there were so many nice places where money would go three times as far in foreign countries; and I wondered you did not think of it, and take more interest yourself, and upon that I could see the old soger was thinking of fifty things, suspecting poor me of foul play among the number; and I was afraid for a minute I was going to have half a dozen claws in my smeller; but I turned it off, and I coaxed and wheedled a bit. You’d a laughed yourself black, till I had us both a purring like a pair of old maid’s cats.”
“I tell you what, Harry, there’s madness there—literal madness,” said Charles, grasping his arm as he stopped and turned towards him, so that Harry had to come also to a standstill. “Don’t you know it—as mad as Bedlam? Just think!”
Harry laughed.
“Mad enough, by jingo,” said he.
“But don’t you think so—actually mad?” repeated Charles.
“Well, it is near the word, maybe, but I would not say quite mad—worse than mad, I dare say, by chalks; but I wouldn’t place the old soger there,” said Harry.
“Where?” said Charles.