“You're not married, then?”
“Pshaw! no.”
“Nor engaged?”
The other laughed as he replied:—
“Why, on that head, the least said the better. The roving commission permits you to run up any flag that the occasion requires.”
“Ah, you sly dog!—and what success?”
“Come, come, Ben, you must not be so inquisitive. The game's my own, you know; and the rules of the club give me immunity from a fellow-member.”
“By Gad, I'll resign! I must see this forest beauty.”
“Impossible!”
“Where's she? How will you prevent?”