“It’s all arranged, Harry,” said he with a glee in which, however, his companion did not seem at all to participate.
“So I supposed,” replied Harry, quietly; “such an affair is not likely to remain long unfinished in your hands.”
“And why should it, pray?” inquired Stanley, a little nettled at his friend’s want of enthusiasm.
“Oh, it should not, of course,” said Harry; “such matters, after all, are best done when soonest done. Where do we meet?”
“On the old battle-ground—Weehawken,” said Stanley; “no place like it.”
“No, none like it, indeed! What time have you appointed?” asked Harry.
“To-morrow, at sunrise,” replied Stanley.
“That’s rather prompt, too,” said Harry, “if one has to take leave of his friends and make his peace with God.”
“Bah!” said Stanley, slightingly, “we must not think too much of these things.”
“I must not, certainly,” replied Harry, “if I would just now retain my self-possession. We use pistols, I presume?”