Deuced serious thing, y' know, Bev. Shall have to get rid
of my stable, and the coach; 'Moonraker' must go, too, I'm afraid.
Yes, Bev," sighed the Viscount, shaking his head at the reflection
of his elegant person in the mirror, "you behold in me a beggar, and
the cause--Clemency. But then, I know I am the very happiest beggar
in all this wide world, and the cause--Clemency!"
"I feared your father would never favor such a match, Dick, but--"
"Favor it! Oh, bruise and blister me!--"
"Have you told Clemency?"
"Not yet--"
"Has he seen her?"
"No, that's the deuce of it, she's away with her father, y' know.
Bit of a mystery about him, I fancy--she made me promise to be
patient a while, and ask no questions."
"And where is she?"
"Haven't the least idea. However, I went down to beard my Roman, y'
know, alone and single handed. Great mistake! Had Clemency been with
me the flintiest of Roman P's would have relented, for who could
resist--Clemency? As it was, I did my best, Bev--ran over her
points--I mean--tried to describe her, y' know, but it was no go, Bev,
no go--things couldn't have gone worse!"
"How?"
"'Sir,' says I--in an easy, off-hand tone, my dear fellow, and it
was _after_ dinner, you'll understand,--'Sir, I've decided to act
upon your very excellent advice, and get married.
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