ling Shades.

"It's like this," Trimble began, when they were seated on the worn
leather of the corner lounge. "I took a fancy to you right off. Eh, I'm
from the North, and I may be a bit blunt, but by gum I liked you, and
that's how it is. Yes. I'm going to talk to you the same as I might to
my own brother, only I haven't got one."

Michael looked a little apprehensive of the sack of confidences that
would presently be emptied over his head, and, seeking perhaps to turn
Trimble from his intention, asked him to guess his age.

"Well, I suppose you're anything from twenty-two to twenty-three."

Michael choked over his lemon-and-dash before he announced grimly that
he was seventeen.

"Get out," said Trimble sceptically. "You're more than that. Seventeen?
Eh, I wouldn't have thought it. Never mind, I said I was going to tell
you. And by gum I will, if you say next you haven't been weaned."

Michael resented the freedom of this expression and knitted his eyebrows
in momentary distaste.

"It's like this," Mr. Trimble began again, "I made up my mind to-day
that Kath's the lass for me. Now am I right? That's what I want to ask
you. Am I right?"

"I suppose if you're in love with her and she's in love with you, yes,"
said Michael.

"Well, she is. Now you wouldn't think she was passionate, would you?
You'd say she was a bit of ice, wouldn't you? Well, by gum, I tell you,
lad, she's a furnace. Would you believe that?" Mr. Trimble leaned back
triumphantly.

Michael did not know what comment to make on this information, and took
another sip of his lemon-and-dash.

"Well, now what I say is--and I'm not a chap who's flung round a great
deal with the girls--what I say is," Trimble went on, banging the marble
table before him, "it's not fair on a lass to play around like this, and
so I've made up my mind to marry her. Am I right? By gum, lad, I know
I'm right."

"I think you are," said Michael solemnly. "And I think you're awfully
lucky."

"Lucky?" echoed Trimble, "I'm lucky enough, if it wasn't for her domned
old father. The lass is fine, but him--well, if I was to tell you what
he is, you'd say I was using language. So it's like this. I want Kath to
marry me down here. I'll get the license. I've saved up a hundred
pounds. I'm earning two hundred a year now. Am I right?"

"Perfectly right," said Michael earnestly, who, now that Trimble was
showing himself to possess real fervour of soul, was ready to support
him, ev