If
the boy got into a scrape, it was probably his own fault."
"And the girl? What of her? Am I to leave her to the tender mercies of
whatever particular crew of blackguards may have got her into their
power?"
"You are needlessly melodramatic," Spencer answered. "I will admit, of
course, that her position may be an unfortunate one, but the personage
whom I have the honor to call my friend does not often protect
blackguards. Be reasonable, Duncombe! These young people are not
relatives of yours, are they?"
"No!"
"Nor very old friends? The young lady, for instance?"
Duncombe looked up, and his face was set in grim and dogged lines. He
felt like a man who was nailing his colors to the mast.
"The young lady," he said, "is, I pray Heaven, my future wife!"
Spencer was honestly amazed, and a little shocked.
"Forgive me, Duncombe," he said. "I had no idea--though perhaps I ought
to have guessed."
They went on with their luncheon in silence for some time, except for a
few general remarks. But after the coffee had been brought and the
cigarettes were alight, Spencer leaned once more across the table.
"Tell me, Duncombe, what you mean to do.
Pages:
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75