Dan pitched his soft hat at Sam’s head, and let fall the tongs with a clatter.
“Collinson seems to be all right,” I put in. “He is going up to London to a levée, and he is going to buy an estate. At least, he told me so to-night in the supper-room.”
“Oh, in one sense of the word the fellow is all right,” acknowledged Dan. “He is what he pretends to be; he is in the army list; and, for all I know to the contrary, he may have enough gold to float an argosy of ships. What I ask is, why he should go sneaking after Mina when he does not care for her.”
“That may be just a fallacy of ours, Dan,” said his brother.
“No, it’s not. Collinson is in love with Madame St. Vincent; not with Mina.”
“Then why does he spoon after Mina?”
“That’s just it—why?”
“Any way, I don’t think madame is in love with him, Dan. It was proposed that he should take aunt home to-night, and madame was as tart as you please over it, letting all the room know that she did not want him.”
“Put it down so,” agreed Dan, stooping to pick up the tongs. “Say that he is not fond of madame, but of Mina, and would like to make her his wife: why does he not go about it in a proper manner; court her openly, speak to her mother; instead of pursuing her covertly like a sneak?”
“It may be his way of courting.”