‘Does she love another man?’
‘I say, suppose.’
‘I dare say she does. I expect that’s it.—What an idiot I am not to have thought of that before.’ He sighed,—and refilled his glass. ‘He’s a lucky chap, whoever he is. I’d—I’d like to tell him so.’
‘You’d like to tell him so?’
‘He’s such a jolly lucky chap, you know.’
‘Possibly,—but his jolly good luck is your jolly bad luck. Would you be willing to resign her to him without a word?’
‘If she loves him.’
‘But you say you love her.’
‘Of course I do.’
‘Well then?’