dear fellow, you're at least a dozen years my junior, and look at me!"
and John glanced at himself in the glass with a feeble pride, noting
the gray sparseness of his side-hair, and its plaintive dearth on top.
"Of course I've got to admit," he continued, "that my hair is
gradually evaporating; but for all that, I'm 'still in the ring,'
don't you know; as young in society, for the matter of that, as
yourself! And this is just the reason why I don't want you to blight
every prospect in your life by marrying at your age--especially a
woman--I mean the kind of woman you'd be sure to fancy at your age."

"Didn't I say 'a good, sensible girl' was the kind I had selected?"
Bert remonstrated.

"Oh!" exclaimed John, "you've selected her, then?--and without one
word to me!" he ended, rebukingly.

"Well, hang it all!" said Bert, impatiently; "I knew how _you_ were,
and just how you'd talk me out of it; and I made up my mind that for
once, at least, I'd follow the dictations of a heart that--however
capricious in youthful frivolties--should beat, in manhood, loyal to
itself and loyal to its own affinity."

"Go it! Fire away! Farewell, vain world!" exclaimed the excited
John.--"Trade your soul off for a pair of ear-bobs and a
button-hook--a hank of jute hair and a box of lily-white! I've buried
not less than ten old chums this way, and here's another nominated for
the tomb."

"But you've got no _reason_ about you," began Bert,--"I want to"--