yours, at least, does; for she's been talking about it. Gad, Bradley, it
takes those women to find out anything of that kind, eh?"

The light in Bradley's eyes and his pipe went slowly out together.

"Then we'll say that affair of the advance is as good as settled. It's
Sir Robert's wish, you understand, and this young fellow's wish,--and if
you'll come down to the Bank next week we'll arrange it for you; I
think you'll admit they're doing the handsome to you and yours. And
therefore," he lowered his voice confidentially, "you'll see, Bradley,
that it will only be the honorable thing in you, you know, to look upon
the affair as finished, and, in fact, to do all you can"--he drew his
chair closer--"to--to--to drop this other foolishness."

"I don't think I quite understand you!" said Bradley, slowly.

"But your wife does, if you don't," returned Richardson, bluntly; "I
mean this foolish flirtation between Louise Macy and Mainwaring, which
is utterly preposterous. Why, man, it can't possibly come to anything,
and it couldn't be allowed for a moment. Look at his position and hers.
I should think, as a practical man, it would strike you--"

"Only one thing strikes me, Richardson," interrupted Bradley, in a
singularly distinct whisper, rising, and moving nearer the speaker; "it
is that you're sitting perilously near the edge of this veranda. For, by
the living God, if you don't take yourself out of that chair and out of
this house, I won't be answerable for the consequences!"

"Hold on there a minute, will you?" said Mainwaring's voice from the
window.