"
"When? Going abroad again?"
"To Sicily."
"Ha!--that means, I conjecture," said Denzil, searching his
friend's face, "that a certain affair will come to nothing after
all?"
"And what if you are right?" returned the other, slowly, averting
his eyes.
"I sha'n't grieve. No, to tell you the truth, I shall not! So at
last I may speak my real opinion. It wouldn't have done, Glazzard;
it was a mistake, old fellow. I have never been able to understand
it. You--a man of your standing--no, no, it was completely a
mistake, believe me!"
Glazzard looked into the speaker's face, smiled again, and remarked
calmly:
"That's unfortunate. I didn't say my engagement was at an end; and,
in fact, I shall be married in a fortnight. We go to Sicily for the
honeymoon."
A flush of embarrassment rose to Denzil's face. For a moment he
could not command himself; then indignation possessed him.
"That's too bad!" he exclaimed. "You took advantage of me. You laid
a trap. I'm damned if I feel able to apologize!"
Glazzard turned away, and it seemed as if he would walk on. But he
faced about again abruptly, laughed, held out his hand.
"No, it is I who should apologize. I did lay a trap, and it was too
bad. But I wished to know your real opinion."
No one more pliable than Denzil. At once he took the hand that was
offered and pressed it heartily.
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