"The darlin' has made me say 'Yes' at last," said Moore in an apparently bashful tone.
"Mistress Dyke," said his lordship, taking her hand and kissing it, "Tom is indeed a lucky man. I wish you both all the happiness you deserve. Hang me, if I 'm not envious, Tom. I 've half a mind to marry myself."
"It takes a smart man to marry himself," commented Moore, "but it is economical."
Brooking sat down and crossed his legs in an easy attitude.
"I have news for you, Tom," said he. "News that I fancy will please you."
"Have you found me a long-lost uncle, childless, wifeless, and worth a million?"
"Not exactly."
"What, then, your lordship? Surely not a long-lost son?"
"I have endeavored to secure you the appointment of Registrar of the Admiralty Court at Bermuda. The salary of the office is five hundred pounds yearly."
"Bermuda?" echoed the poet, hardly able to believe his ears.