ouldn't have it opened this beastly cold night
for a great deal. Besides, think what a funk you'd set up among the
women by banging off a gun at this ungodly hour. The hens must take
their chance. Now look here, Percy," he went on, speaking earnestly and
seriously, "take a word of warning from one who has seen a great deal
more of the world, and the crookedness thereof, than you have, and chuck
this business--for all serious purposes I mean. Have your fun by all
means--even to a fast and furious flirtation if you're that way
disposed. But--draw the line at that, and draw it hard."

"I wouldn't if I could, and I couldn't if I would. Hilary--we are
engaged."

"What?"

The word came with almost a shout. Blachland had sat up in bed and was
staring at his young kinsman in wild dismay. His pipe had fallen to the
ground in his amazement over the announcement. "Since when, if it's a
fair question?" he added, somewhat recovering himself.

"Only this evening. I asked her to marry me and she consented."

"Then you must break it off at once. I tell you this thing can't come
off, Percy. It simply can't."

"Can't it? But it will. And look here, Hilary, you're a devilish good
chap, and all that--but I'm not precisely under your guardianship, you
know. Nor am I dependent upon anybody. I've got a little of my own,
and besides, I can work."

"Oh, you young fool. Go to sleep. You may wake up more sensible," he
answered, not unkindly, and restraining the impulse to tell Percival the
truth then and there, but the thought that restrained him was the coming
interview with Hermia on the morrow. He was naturally reluctant to give
her away unless absolutely necessary, but whatever the result of that
interview, he would force her to free Percival from her toils. To do
him justice, the idea that such an exposure would involve himself too
did not enter his mind--at least not then.

"I think I will go to sleep, Hilary, as you're so beastly
unsympathetic," answered the younger man good-humouredly. "But as to
the waking up--well, you and I differ as to the meaning of the word
`sensible.' Night-night."

And soon a succession of light snores told that he was asleep, probably
dreaming blissfully of the crafty and scheming adventuress who had
fastened on to his young life to strangle it at the outset. But Hilary
Blachland lay staring into the darkness--thinking, and ever thinking.

"Confound those infernal fowls!" he mut