"I never said they weren't happy."

"Then, my dear Ansell, why are you so cut up? It's beastly when a
friend marries,--and I grant he's rather young,--but I should say
it's the best thing for him. A decent woman--and you have proved
not one thing against her--a decent woman will keep him up to the
mark and stop him getting slack. She'll make him responsible and
manly, for much as I like Rickie, I always find him a little
effeminate. And, really,"--his voice grew sharper, for he was
irritated by Ansell's conceit, "and, really, you talk as if you
were mixed up in the affair. They pay a civil visit to your
rooms, and you see nothing but dark plots and challenges to war."

"War!" cried Ansell, crashing his fists together. "It's war,
then!"

"Oh, what a lot of tommy-rot," said Tilliard. "Can't a man and
woman get engaged? My dear boy--excuse me talking like this--what
on earth is it to do with us?"

"We're his friends, and I hope we always shall be, but we shan't
keep his friendship by fighting. We're bound to fall into the
background. Wife first, friends some way after. You may resent
the order, but it is ordained by nature."

"The point is, not what's ordained by nature or any other fool,
but what's right."

"You are hopelessly unpractical," said Tilliard, turning away.
"And let me remind you that you've already given away your case