"Is she? I'm very sorry, I haven't seen her." He seemed thoughtful for a minute. "She was alright, you know, jolly decent in fact, but we could never have paired—she was silly. There is a Providence, mater. ''Tis better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all,' you know; these little afflictions sort of temper our natures, accentuate and harden the good qualities we possess."
"And the bad."
"That's so, of course. Good and bad, simply a matter of opinion. I'm an optimist, I see no bad in the world, it's all good. Carstairs there is a grumpy old pessimist, he hasn't got time to smile, he's too busy trying to decide what's good and bad, and honest and dishonest, etc. And he don't know at the finish. Comes round here trying to steal my girl and talks about fighting when I expostulate with him. I tell you the more you think about honesty, the more fogged you get."
"My dear chap, in that respect I'm not fogged in the least."
Darwen strode over to him and clapped him on the shoulder, "Buck up then, and go in and win, I surrender all rights. Take a day off to-morrow and drive over to this place in a cab. Take a nice little gold watch or something, as a peace offering. Then, if I were you, on the strict Q.T., I should give her a punch in the eye; her ma'mas for generations past were probably wooed that way, and it would appeal to her in spite of herself."
His mother laughed and looked at Carstairs. "Really I should go over if I were you."
"Can't go to-morrow," Carstairs said definitely. "Got to see the test of that new engine."
Darwen drew himself up and threw out his chest with mock gravity. "I'm the chief, and I tell you you can go."
"You can say what you like, I'm not going unless you give me the sack."
"I'd do that for two pins. Shall I, mater?"