“We are to be married to-morrow week––Prudence and I.”
“So I’ve been told. I congratulate you.”
Iredale looked at his companion with grave eyes. They were quite alone in the room. He had met Grey frequently and had learned to understand his ways and to know his bull-headed methods. Now he quietly waited. He had a shrewd suspicion that the man had something unpleasant to say. Unconsciously his teeth closed tighter upon his pipe.
Grey raised his eyebrows.
“Thanks. I hardly expected it.”
“And why not?” Iredale was smiling, his grey eyes had a curious look in them––something between quizzical amusement and surprise.
“Oh, I don’t know,” the other retorted with a shrug. “There is no telling how some men will take these things.”
Iredale removed his pipe, and pressed the ash down with his little finger. The operation required the momentary lowering of his eyes from his companion’s face.
“I don’t think I understand you.”
Grey laughed unpleasantly.