"Will you--congratulate me, Dick?"
"My dear fellow," cried the Viscount, springing up, "with all my
heart!"
"Dick," said Barnabas, as their hands met, "would you give me your
hand as readily had it been--Clemency?"
Now here the Viscount's usually direct gaze wavered and fell, while
his pallid cheek flushed a dull red. He did not answer at once, but
his sudden frown was eloquent.
"Egad, Bev, I--since you ask me--I don't think I should."
"Why?"
"Oh well, I suppose--you see--oh, I'll be shot if I know!"
"You--don't love her, do you, Dick?"
"Clemency? Of course not--that is--suppose I do--what then?"
"Why then she'd make a very handsome Viscountess, Dick."
"Beverley," said the Viscount, staring wide-eyed, "are you mad?"
"No," Barnabas retorted, "but I take you to be an honorable man, my
Lord."
The Viscount sprang to his feet, clenched his fists, then took two
or three turns across the room.
"Sir," said he, in his iciest tones, "you presume too much on my
friendship."
"My Lord," said Barnabas, "with your good leave I'll ring for my
servant." Which he did, forthwith.
"Sir," said the Viscount, pale and stern, and with folded arms,
"your remark was, I consider, a direct reflection upon my honor.
Pages:
552
553
554
555
556
557
558
559
560
561
562
563
564
565
566
567
568
569
570
571
572
573
574
575
576