A humorous twinkle came into Huckaby’s eye, and a smile played round his lips beneath the straggling brushwood of hair.
“I have a great idea,” he said.
“What is it?”
“Break a woman’s heart,” said Huckaby.
Quixtus reflected gravely. It would indeed be a charming, enticing piece of wickedness.
“I shouldn’t have to marry her?” he asked in some concern.
“Heaven forbid.”
“I like it,” said Quixtus, leaning back in his chair and smoothing his scrappy moustache with his lean fingers. “I like it very much. The only difficulty is: where can I find the woman whose heart I can break?”
“Take a tour abroad,” said Huckaby. “On the Continent of Europe there are thousands of English women only waiting to have their hearts broken.”
“That may be true,” said Quixtus; “but how shall I obtain the necessary introductions?”