and added in lower tones, "So do I."

"There's no reason why you shouldn't. Marry me next week, and we will
go straight to Messina."

"I will marry you in a fortnight from to-day," said Serena, in
quivering voice.

"You will?"

Glazzard walked back to Highmead with a countenance which alternated
curiously between smiling and lowering. The smile was not agreeable,
and the dark look showed his face at its worst. He was completely
absorbed in thought, and when some one stopped full in front of him
with jocose accost, he gave a start of alarm.

"I should be afraid of lamp-posts," said Quarrier, "if I had that
somnambulistic habit. Why haven't you looked in lately? Men of infinite
leisure must wait upon the busy."

"My leisure, thank the destinies!" replied Glazzard, "will very soon be
spent out of hearing of election tumult."

"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.

"I'm a blundering fellow. Do come and spend an hour with me to-night.
From eleven to twelve. I dine out with fools, and shall rejoice to see
you afterwards."

"Thanks, I can't. I go up to town by the 7.15."

They were in a suburban road, and at the moment