Henry paused, with his latch-key in his hand and looked at him with an amused gleam in his eyes.
"What!" said he, "you too!"
Claud started, laughed, flushed deeply, and shook his head.
"Oh, no—not that," he said. "Not that at all. Of course I am a worshipper at the shrine of injured innocence and persecuted beauty—every knight-errant must be that, you know; but no more. I wonder why?"
"You wonder why what?"
"I wonder why I am not madly in love with Miss Brabourne. I fully intended to be, at one time. Why shouldn't I be? I don't understand it."
"I can tell you why, if you care to know," said Henry, smiling quietly to himself as he set open the door, and crossed his threshold.
"Oh, it's of no consequence; thank you," said Claud, with suspicious hurry, and reddening slightly.
"No? Well, perhaps you are wise," was the grave answer. "I find that young people mostly are very prudent in these days. It would be quite a relief occasionally to see a man carried away by the strength of his feelings."
Claud looked earnestly at him.