"It's none of your business, anyway," fumed the big man.
"No. I admit that! But suppose I make it my business by asking Madame Alpenny for her daughter's hand. She believes me to be rich and----"
"And you are not. Come, be honest."
Spruce saw that he had overshot the mark and retreated dexterously. "I have already been honest, as I told you that I was not a millionaire but only well off. Anyhow, I am a better husband for Zara so far as money is concerned than you or that bounder."
"But hang it, man, you can't love her. You've only known her a week."
"I never said that I did love her, or could possibly come to love her. Still, Zara is handsome and clever, so why shouldn't I make her my comrade-wife, since you suggested the same kind of half-baked alliance with yourself."
"Look here, Spruce," stated the other very seriously, and irritated by the nimble wit of his schoolfellow, "you have proved yourself to be a decent sort by offering to help me. For that offer I thank you, and because of it I am willing that we should be friends. But if you make love to Zara we are sure to quarrel."
"Aren't you rather a dog-in-the-manger, Hench?"
"No. I admire the girl."
"She wants love, which you evidently can't give her," retorted Spruce in an emphatic manner. "Now, if I can love her----"
"You said that she wasn't your sort."
"She isn't. Still, she is handsome, and one might pick up a worse wife."
"But not a worse mother-in-law. So far as I am concerned it doesn't matter, as I have neither kith nor kin to my knowledge, and, moreover, I am a vagabond upon the face of the earth. But with your family connections and position and money, the marriage would not be a success, seeing that it entails your taking Madame Alpenny to the West End. There she would scarcely do you credit."
Spruce rocked with laughter, and wondered what Hench would say if he knew
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