"I think of things afterward," said Blundell, humbly; "generally after I get to bed."
Mr. Turnbull sniffed, and took a turn up and down the room; then he closed the door and came toward his friend again.
"I dare say you're surprised at me being so anxious to get rid of Venia," he said, slowly, "but the fact is I'm thinking of marrying again myself."
"You!" said the startled Mr. Blundell.
"Yes, me," said the other, somewhat sharply. "But she won't marry so long as Venia is at home. It's a secret, because if Venia got to hear of it she'd keep single to prevent it. She's just that sort of girl."
Mr. Blundell coughed, but did not deny it. "Who is it?" he inquired.
"Miss Sippet," was the reply. "She couldn't hold her own for half an hour against Venia."
Mr. Blundell, a great stickler for accuracy, reduced the time to five minutes.
"And now," said the aggrieved Mr. Turnbull, "now, so far as I can see, she's struck with Daly. If she has him it'll be years and years before they can marry. She seems crazy about heroes. She was talking to me the other night about them. Not to put too fine a point on it, she was talking about you."
Mr. Blundell blushed with pleased surprise.