“I don't mean that,” replied Miller. “I was wondering how far you had committed yourself—oh, damn it!—made love, and all that sort of thing.”
“I've never spoken to her on the subject,” Alan informed him, gloomily.
“Good, good! Splendid!”
Alan stared in surprise.
“I don't understand,” he said. “She knows—that is, I think she knows how I feel, and I have hoped that—”
“Never mind about that,” interrupted Miller, laconically. “There is a chance for both of you if you 'll turn square around like sensible human beings and look the facts in the face.”
“You mean—”
“That it will be stupid, childish idiocy for either or both of you to let this thing spoil your lives.”
“I don't understand you.”
“Well, you will before I'm through with you, and I 'll do you up brown. There are simply two courses open to you, my boy. One is to treat Colonel Barclay's wishes with dignified respect, and bow and retire just as any European gentleman would do when told that his pile was too small to be considered.”