"
"What?" said Stafford. "My attentions to Miss Falconer--Are you
chaffing, Howard?"
"Not in the least: it's usually too great a waste of time with you, my
dear boy: you don't listen, and when you do, half the time you don't
understand. No, I'm quite serious; but perhaps I ought to have said her
attentions to you; it would have been more correct."
Stafford coloured.
"Look here, old man," he said. "If you think--Oh, dash it all, what
nonsense it is! Miss Falconer and I are very good friends; and of
course I like to talk to her--she's so sharp, almost as smart and
clever as you are, when she likes to take the trouble; and of course I
like to hear her sing--Why, my dear Howard, it's like listening to one
of the big operatic swells; but--but to suggest that there is
anything--that--there is any reason to warn me--Oh, dash it! come off
it, old man, you're chaffing?"
"Not in the least. But I didn't intend any warning: in fact, I am in
honour bound to refrain from anything of the kind--"
"In honour bound?" said Stafford.
Howard almost blushed.
"Oh, it's nothing; only a silly wager," he said.
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