There was a pause, in which Humphrey considered how best to impart his tidings. The other shifted his feet, and contemplated the smoke-dried wall—the only view attainable from the window. Kent stared at him. It was displayed to him clearly for the first time that his marriage would mean severance from Turquand and the Restaurant Suisse and all that had been his life hitherto, and that Turquand might feel it more sorely than he expressed. He was sorry for Turquand. He lounged over to the mantelpiece and dipped his hand in the familiar tobacco-jar, and filled a pipe before he spoke.
"Well," he said, with an elaborate effort to sound careless, "I suppose you'll hardly be astonished, old chap—I'm engaged."
[CHAPTER V]
Turquand did not answer immediately.
"No," he said at last; "I'm not astonished. Nothing could astonish me, excepting good news. When is the event to take place?"
"That's not settled. Soon.... We shall always be pals, Turk?"
"I'll come and see you sometimes—oh yes. Father consented?"
"Things are quite smooth all round."
"H'mph!"