His friend made no direct reply, but observed, after a few whiffs of his cigar, “Don’t mistake the situation. There is no better girl in all this London than Lizzie Hexam. There is no better among my people at home; no better among your people.”

“Granted. What follows?”

“There,” said Eugene, looking after him dubiously as he paced away to the other end of the room, “you put me again upon guessing the riddle that I have given up.”

“Eugene, do you design to capture and desert this girl?”

“My dear fellow, no.”

“Do you design to marry her?”

“My dear fellow, no.”

“Do you design to pursue her?”