For half-a-second Jason’s brows contracted ominously; and then his whole countenance relaxed into a thousand humorous wrinkles.

“He’ll be a better friend to her still, when he’s tasted those wedding-pasties of yours, Darnley!” he said, holding up his tankard and making a sly motion with one eyelid and one shoulder in the direction of Mr. Urquhart, to whom his back remained turned.

There was a moment’s interruption at this point, while the waiter was laying in front of the newcomers the beer and cheese they had ordered.

“You needn’t look like that at my pie,” said Jason. “Everyone isn’t going to be married tomorrow!”

“Hurry up with your new poems,” retorted Darnley, “and then you’ll be able to treat us all to these luxuries.”

But Jason had turned his sardonic eye upon Wolf.