"Crushed, despondent, and utterly hopeless, Baxter, and shall be,
henceforth, pursued by the--er--Haunting Spectre of the Might
Have Been."

"Very natural, sir, indeed!"

"I could have hoped, Baxter, that, having served me so long,--not to
mention my father, you would have shown just a--er shade more feeling in
the matter."

"And if you were to ask me,--as between man and man sir,--why I don't
show more feeling, then, speaking as the old servant of your respected
father, Master George, sir,--I should beg most respectfully to say that
regarding the lady in question, her conduct is not in the least
surprising, Miss Marchmont being a beauty, and aware of the fact, Master
George. Referring to your heart, sir, I am ready to swear that it is not
even cracked. And now, sir,--what clothes do you propose to wear
this morning?"

"And pray, why should you be so confident of regarding
the--er--condition of my heart?"

"Because, sir,--speaking as your father's old servant, Master George, I
make bold to say that I don't believe that you have ever been in love,
or even know what love is, Master George, sir."

Bellew picked up the salt-spoon, balanced it very carefully upon his
finger, and put it down again.

"Nevertheless," said he, shaking his head, "I can see for myself but the