“But I had rather be with you than any of them,” cries the young man.
“Indeed I might be better company for you than some of them,” says the other.
“Is it Captain Batts you mean?” asked Harry.
“He is no favourite of mine, I own; he bore a rascally reputation when he was in the army, and I doubt has not mended it since he was turned out. You certainly might find a better friend than Captain Batts. Pardon the freedom which I take in saying so,” says Mr. Wolfe, grimly.
“Friend! he is no friend: he only teaches me to play tennis: he is hand-in-glove with my lord, and all the people of fashion here who play.”
“I am not a man of fashion,” says Mr. Wolfe.
“My dear Colonel, what is the matter? Have I angered you in any way? You speak almost as if I had, and I am not conscious of having done anything to forfeit your regard,” said Mr. Warrington.
“I will be free with you, Mr. Warrington,” said the Colonel, gravely, “and tell you with frankness that I don't like some of your friends!”
“Why, sure, they are men of the first rank and fashion in England,” cries Harry, not choosing to be offended with his companion's bluntness.
“Exactly, they are men of too high rank and too great fashion for a hard-working poor soldier like me; and if you continue to live with such, believe me, you will find numbers of us humdrum people can't afford to keep such company. I am here, Mr. Warrington, paying my addresses to an honourable lady. I met you yesterday openly walking with a French ballet-dancer, and you took off your hat. I must frankly tell you, that I had rather you would not take off your hat when you go out in such company.”