"But--am I to understand that she _expects_ it?"
"Not at all. She hasn't in the remotest way betrayed such a thought
--be assured of that. She isn't the sort of girl to do such a
thing. It's entirely my own thought."
The artist changed his seat, and for a moment wore a look of
perturbed reflection.
"How the deuce," he exclaimed, "can you come and talk to me like
this when you know I've as good as committed myself--?"
"Yes, and in a wobbling, half-hearted way which means you had no
right even to think of committing yourself. You care nothing about
that other girl--"
"You're mistaken. I care a good deal. In fact--"
"In fact" echoed Warburton with good-natured scorn so much that
you've all but made up your mind to go down to Southwold whilst she
is there! Bosh! You cared for one girl in a way you'll never care
for another."
"Well--perhaps--yes that may be true--"
"Of course it's true. If you don't marry _her_, go in for a prize
beauty or for an heiress or anything else that's brilliant. Think of
the scope before a man like you."
Franks smiled complacently once more.
"Why, that's true," he replied." I was going to tell you about my
social adventures. Who do you think I've been chumming with? Sir
Luke Griffin--the great Sir Luke. He's asked me down to his place
in Leicestershire, and I think I shall go. He's really a very nice
fellow. I always imagined him loud, vulgar, the typical parvenu.
Nothing of the kind--no one would guess that he began life in a
grocer's shop.
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