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"No, Lucas," said his friend readily, "I am not inclined to talk as a rule, but I cannot bear to hear you maligned. I never saw a man work as you do." "Is that your candid opinion of our friend?" smiled Mr. Walkingshaw with a pleasant air. "It feebly endeavors to express my opinion," replied the engaging young man.
He would realize he was out of touch with life; that he was neglecting a dozen opportunities a day for giving pleasure to people who were still young enough to enjoy themselves, and thereby bucking himself up too. Mr. Walkingshaw begged his audience, particularly that portion of it over fifty, to beware of the fatal habit of growing old. How was this to be avoided?
She gave him one glance which she meant for reproof; but when he saw her eyes, so loving and a little moist, he covered the short space between them with one movement, and was on his knees before her. "Do you love me?" he whispered. Her head bent over his, and she answered very faintly something like "Yes." Mr. Walkingshaw entered his drawing-room. For a moment there was a painful pause.
His clothes were light of hue and very loose, his figure was of medium height and strongly built, his collar wide open at the neck, and his tie a large silk butterfly of an artistic shade of brown. Altogether he was a most improbable person to find calling upon a daughter of Mr. Heriot Walkingshaw.
She was an uncommonly nice woman really uncommonly: and what an odd pleasure he began to feel in her society! He felt even more satisfaction than when he had run down his hat. It was upon a fine April morning that Mr. Walkingshaw made his momentous discovery. His sister had left her room on her way to breakfast when she heard his voice calling her.
Walkingshaw genially, "here we all are; and now what's the business before the meeting?" "I understand," replied Mr. Brown, in a calm and gentle voice, "that you have broken off your engagement with this lady. Now, as a well, I may say, as an interested friend of Mrs. Dunbar, I should very much like to have your reasons." Heriot smiled. "Will you undertake to believe them?"
In any case, she had justified the Walkingshaw reputation for investing money or person soundly and shrewdly. She resembled her father, and he had always been considered a fine-looking man. Both Andrew and Maggie thought she got too many of her clothes in London. They made her a little conspicuous, and they hoped she could afford it.
You'll see to that?" "I'll carry out the provisions made when you were in your right mind." "What provisions?" "The terms of your will." Mr. Walkingshaw looked at his son steadily and in silence. After a full minute under this stare Andrew began to grow uneasy. "There's to be no more nonsense, I warn you," he said.
"Your income," repeated the bombardier. The artist ran his fingers convulsively through his hair. "Now, what the deuce should I put it at?" "An approximately correct figure," suggested Mr. Walkingshaw. "To tell you the truth, I haven't the least idea." "A thousand?" "Oh, good God, no!" "A hundred?" "Oh, more than that." "Can't you suggest a figure yourself?"
"For a woman?" asked Jean, a little surprised. "But we were talking about a man." There was no mirror available, but Mr. Walkingshaw had a strong suspicion that he must be blushing. "For a man of course," he said hastily. "I meant for a man. But in a general way I think I may say that love's the thing for everybody! It's the thing for you and me anyhow, eh, Jean?"
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