"What?"
"It shall be legal?"
"Zounds, man, not another word! What do you take me for? She's a cousin, I tell you, George. And I'm already engaged to Miss Trevor."
"The devil you are!"
"Ay. I couldn't escape. 'Twill be all out to-night. But I'll have little Deborah if I have to fight Annapolis single-handed."
"Um. About the ceremony—Miriam Vawse will witness for one, but 'tis usual to have two—"
"There's the Frenchman. Faith, that would be a stroke! He's led me a jealous dance for months. We'll have him down from his room to sign the articles—or whatever you do. To think that I'll be a Benedict by morning! Lord! Lord! Congratulate me, George!"
"Come away, man. You've too much Jamaica in you, and the ladies are beginning to arrive. I hear Mistress Paca's voice on the stairs. Come and make your compliments to the Governor's lady."
Having performed this duty as punctiliously as only he was able, Sir Charles left Rockwell's side and strolled slowly up the big, candle-lit room, at one end of which a band of musicians were already tuning their instruments. After a moment or two of indecision he joined a little company of officers who sat together in a corner, talking lightly among themselves, and commenting on the guests who were beginning to arrive.
"Ouf! On my soul, there's Cradock with Rockwell. How do they stand it?"