-his voice falling into a strain of
tenderness._] Chick, when I fell in love with Miss Eden--

FRAYNE.

[_In sentimental retrospection._] Fell in love! what memories are
awakened by the dear old phrase!

QUEX.

[_Dryly._] Yes. Will you talk about your love affairs, Chick, or shall
I--?

FRAYNE.

Certainly--you. Go on, Harry.

QUEX.

When I proposed marriage to Miss Eden--it was at the hunt-ball at
Stanridge--

FRAYNE.

[_His eyes sparkling._] Did you select a retired corner--with
flowers--by any chance?

QUEX.

There _were_ flowers.

FRAYNE.

I know--_I_ know! Nearly twenty years ago, and the faint scent of the
_Gardenia Florida_ remains in my nostrils!

QUEX.

Quite so. Would _you_ like to--?

FRAYNE.

[_Sitting._] No, no--you. Excuse me. You go on.

QUEX.

[_Sitting on the edge of the table, looking down upon_ FRAYNE.] When I
proposed to Miss Eden I was certain--even while I was stammering it
out--I was certain that my infernal evil character--

FRAYNE.

Ah, yes. I've always been a dooced deal more artful than you, Harry,
over my little _amours_. [_Chuckling._] Ha, ha! devilish cunning!

QUEX.

And I was right. Her first words were, "Think of your life; how can you
ask this of me?"--her first words and her last, that evening. I was
desperate, Chick, for I--Well, I'm hit, you know.

FRAYNE.

What did you do?

QUEX.

Came to town by the first train in the morning--drove straight off to
Richmond, to my pious aunt. Found her in bed with asthma; _I_ got her
up. And I almost went down on my knees to her, Chick.

FRAYNE.

Not really?

QUEX.

I did--old man as I am! no, I'm not old.

FRAYNE.

Forty-eight. Ha, ha! I'm only forty-five.

QUEX.

But you've had malaria--

FRAYNE.

Dry up, Harry!

QUEX.

So we're quits. Well, down on my marrow-bones I went, metaphorically,
and there and then I made my vows to old aunt Julia, and craved her
help; and she dropped tears on me, Chick, like a mother. And the result
was that within a month I became engaged to Miss Eden.

FRAYNE.

The young lady soon waived her--

QUEX.

[_Getting off the table._] I beg your pardon--the young lady did nothing
of the kind. But with aunt Julia's aid I showed 'em all that it was a
genuine case of done with the old life--a real, genuine instance.
[_Balancing upon the back of the chair._] I've sold my house in Norfolk
Street.

FRAYNE.

You'll want one.

QUEX.

[_Gravely._] Not that