When she had passed out of earshot, Ross touched the young man's arm.
"I'm afraid, my dear Somerset, you are playing a particularly silly fool's game."
"Have you never played it?"
"Heaven forbid!"
"It would be a precious sight better for you if you had," growled Somerset.
"I'll take another quinquina," said Ross.
"Did you see the way in which the brute treated her?" Somerset exclaimed angrily. "If it's like that before marriage, what will it be after?"
"Plenty of money, separate establishments, perfect independence and happiness for each."
Somerset rose from the table.
"There are times, my good Ross," said he, "when I absolutely hate you."