o speak to me of his--his regard for you."

"I cannot see what harm he did by that;--except to himself."

"I believe that it is understood among gentlemen that one man never
speaks to another man about the lady the other man means to marry,
unless they are very intimate friends indeed. What I mean is, that if
Mr. Belton had understood how gentlemen live together he would never
have said anything to me about his affection for you. He should at
any rate have supposed me to be ignorant of it. There is something
in the very idea of his doing so that is in the highest degree
indelicate. I wonder, Clara, that you do not see this yourself."

"I think he was indiscreet."

"Indiscreet! Indiscreet is not the word for such conduct. I must say,
that as far as my opinion goes, it was ungentlemanlike."

"I don't believe that there is a nobler-minded gentleman in all
London than my cousin Will."

"Perhaps it gratified you to hear from him the assurance of his
love?" said Captain Aylmer.

"If it is your wish to insult me, Frederic, I will leave you."

"It is my wish to make you understand that your judgment has been
wrong."

"That is simply a matter of opinion, and as I do not wish to argue
with you about it, I had better go. At any rate I am very tired.
Good-night, Frederic." He then told her what arrangements he had made
for the morrow, at what hour she would be called, and when she would
have her breakfast. After that he let her go without making any
further allusion to Will Belton.

It must be admitted that the meeting between the lovers had not been
auspicious; and it must be acknowledged, also, that Will Belton had
behaved very badly. I am not aware of the existence of that special
understanding among gentlemen in respect to the ladies they are
going to marry which Captain Aylmer so eloquently described; but,
nevertheless, I must confess that Belton would have done better had
he kept his feelings to himself. And when he talked of crushing his
rival's bones, he laid himself justly open to severe censure. But,
for all that, he was no Bobadil. He was angry, sore, and miserable;
and in his anger, soreness, and misery, he had allowed himself to
be carried away. He felt very keenly his own folly, even as he was
leaving the room, and as he made his way out of the hotel he hated
himself for his own braggadocio. "I wish some one would crush my
bones," he said to himself almost audibly. "No one ever deserved to
be crushed bett