“Even on that of letting you have your own way?” laughed Hadley.

“Precisely.  She is ideal in every particular.  Clever, amiable, good looking, not too strait-laced—­she’s just the girl I want.  Don’t you remember,” he hiccoughed, “it was you yourself who recommended her—­”

“As a secretary,” said Hadley dryly.

Once more Stafford emptied his glass.  He had already drunk too much, but he still had his wits about him.  Laughing boisterously at his friend’s sarcasm, he quickly retorted: 

“As a secretary—­precisely—­and I’ve engaged her—­for life.”

Again filling his glass, he went rambling on: 

“You and the other fellows at the club may chaff me all you choose.  I’m going to marry her and that’s all there is to it.  I’m my own master, do you understand?  I have no family—­no inquisitive, meddlesome relatives, thank God!  If this marriage is going to cost me what friends I have—­all right—­let them keep away!  Such friends are not worth having, anyway.  My mind is made up and you know me.  Once I make up my mind, nothing can alter it.”  Determinedly he added:  “I’ll marry her even if she refuses me—­”

“Refuses you?” smiled Hadley cynically; “surely you don’t anticipate anything of that sort.  Girls don’t refuse millionaires nowadays.”

Stafford’s face clouded again.  With an impatient gesture he cried: 

“That’s just the kind of rot you fellows talk!  You don’t know Virginia.  She’s not the sort of girl to be influenced in that way.  If she were, she’d have said ‘yes’ at once.  I understand her perfectly.  She’s still uncertain if she cares enough for me.  I respect her all the more for her reserve.  I’d rather that than have a girl throw herself at me merely for my money.”  Carelessly he added:  “Oh, I’m not worrying.  We’re getting along all right.  It’s only a question of time now—­”

Hadley did not know what to say.  Evidently any advice he could have given on the subject was now too late.  All he could think of was to mutter: 

“Well—­congratulations—­old sport!”

Stafford, no longer crossed, broke into a smile once more.  Leaning tipsily over towards his friend, his face flushed, his eyes sparkling, he hiccoughed: 

“Say, Hadley, she’s a winner!  Those big black eyes of hers are enough to drive any man crazy; and that figure!  Can you blame me, Hadley?  Can you blame me?  Here, drink up!”

“No,” said his companion, disgusted and pushing his glass away.  “I’ve had enough and so have you.  It’s getting late.  Let’s go.”

Stafford made no reply, but, calling the waiter, proceeded to settle for the dinner.  While he was thus engaged, Hadley watched him in irritated silence.