"Well, no: I can hardly say that, Harry. I'm not so far gone as all that. But I think she's a very beautiful, charming, well-brought-up young lady--a typical English girl--a June rose, a real peach. She's the ideal of the sort of girl I'd like to marry. But if she's out of my reach--well, I should resign myself."
"Would you try for some one else? There are probably about a million girls just like that, you know, who would be only too delighted."
"She's the only girl I should care about marrying. If it doesn't come off I shall go back to New York. And I do wish you'd come with me. A fellow with your talents would do splendidly there. Why, I'd find you a place in the Bank in New York. I'd see you made your fortune pretty quick. But you'd never leave London."
"I'm not so sure. Anyway, we'll give it a chance till the autumn."
"If you don't settle down here, then, would you marry an American girl?"
"No. In that case I shan't marry at all. I shall settle down to the life of a lonely bachelor--choose the broad and easy path that leads to single misery, Harry." He laughed.
"Instead of the straight and narrow road that leads to married unhappiness," said Harry. "So you _are_ very keen on Daphne?"
"Not exactly that, perhaps. But it must be her or no one for a life-partner. She's the only girl who ever made any appeal to me from the point of view of domestic life. When I think of a happy home and a fireside with her, it makes me curl like an autumn leaf."
"What a curious chap you are," said Harry, smiling.
"See here," said Van Buren, taking a letter out of his pocket. "I've got a letter from a lady--it's signed Flora Luscombe--but I don't seem to remember anything about her."
Harry took the letter. It was written on mauve paper in a somewhat straggling hand, and was dated from "Dimsdale Mansions, St. Stephen's Road, North Kensington." It was a pathetic, yet cheery invitation to tea.
"It's Miss Luscombe, of the Tank, as we call it," said Harry.
"Oh, the actress? Well, I think I shall go, Harry. I've never had the opportunity of mixing much in dramatic circles. It's real kind of her to have asked me, I must say. I didn't even remember her."
"No one ever remembers her. But it's amusing and absurd. You'll meet some of the people you like. Flora will show you round--point out all the obscurities there, and so forth. Oh, she's a good soul--old Flora."