“And now I had better go,” said Florrie, returning the smile.  “Uncle might see us together, or somebody else might see us and tell him.  Good-bye.”

She shook hands and went off, stopping three times to turn and wave her hand.  In a state of bewildered delight Mr. Sharp continued his stroll, rehearsing, as he went, the somewhat complicated and voluminous instructions she had given him.

By Wednesday evening he was part-perfect, and, in a state of mind divided between nervousness and exaltation, set out for Mr. Culpepper’s.  He found that gentleman, dressed in his best, sitting in an easy-chair with his hands folded over a fancy waistcoat of startling design, and, placing a small box of small cigars on his knees, wished him the usual “Happy Returns.”  The entrance of the ladies, who seemed as though they had just come off the ice, interrupted Mr. Culpepper’s thanks.

“Getting spoiled, that’s what I am,” he remarked, playfully.  “See this waistcoat?  My old Aunt Elizabeth sent it this morning.”

He leaned back in his chair and glanced down in warm approval.  “The missis gave me a pipe, and Florrie gave me half a pound of tobacco.  And I bought a bottle of port wine myself, for all of us.”

He pointed to a bottle that stood on the supper-table, and, the ladies retiring to the kitchen to bring in the supper, rose and placed chairs.  A piece of roast beef was placed before him, and, motioning Mr. Sharp to a seat opposite Florrie, he began to carve.

“Just a nice comfortable party,” he said, genially, as he finished.  “Help yourself to the ale, Bert.”

Mr. Sharp, ignoring the surprise on the faces of the ladies, complied, and passed the bottle to Mr. Culpepper.  They drank to each other, and again a flicker of surprise appeared on the faces of Mrs. Culpepper and her niece.  Mr. Culpepper, noticing it, shook his head waggishly at Mr. Sharp.

“He drinks it as if he likes it,” he remarked.

“I do,” asserted Mr. Sharp, and, raising his glass, emptied it, and resumed the attack on his plate.  Mr. Culpepper unscrewed the top of another bottle, and the reckless Mr. Sharp, after helping himself, made a short and feeling speech, in which he wished Mr. Culpepper long life and happiness.  “If you ain’t happy with Mrs. Culpepper,” he concluded, gallantly, “you ought to be.”

Mr. Culpepper nodded and went on eating in silence until, the keen edge of his appetite having been taken off, he put down his knife and fork and waxed sentimental.

“Been married over thirty years,” he said, slowly, with a glance at his wife, “and never regretted it.”

“Who hasn’t?” inquired Mr. Sharp.

“Why, me,” returned the surprised Mr. Culpepper.

Mr. Sharp, who had just raised his glass, put it down again and smiled.  It was a faint smile, but it seemed to affect his host unfavourably.

“What are you smiling at?” he demanded.