"It's a bit of a change to me to marry any one, but I don't mind sacrificing myself," George rambled on. "There's no secret about it. We've taken a house at a place called Drivelford, and we're going to let Miss Yard live with us. You won't get the chance to congratulate Nellie, and I shouldn't permit it in any case, as I don't think you are the sort of young fellow she ought to speak to; but I do hope you are feeling a bit sorry for yourself. I'm not perfect, but I do think a man ought to be honest and truthful, and be satisfied with one wife, so long as she does what he tells her." "That's right enough," said Sidney. "You see what a callous young fellow you are already. You pretended to be in love with the future Mrs. Drake; but, now that you have lost her, you don't care a hang." "Not that much," said Sidney, snapping his fingers. "That's your character," said George bitterly. "Why should you care? There are plenty of Dollies, and Teenies, and painted ladies, cheap for cash as the advertisements say." "Here, you mind what you're saying. You're going a bit too far!" cried Sidney, rounding angrily upon his oppressor. "I'm not insulting you," George explained. "But I do want to give you a little good advice before we part. I can quite understand that you don't want to hear the truth about your young women, and they wouldn't like to hear it either. That little girl ran away just now because she couldn't face a decent gentleman." "She ran because she wouldn't be introduced to you." "That shows she can't be altogether bad," said George approvingly. "Now I must leave you, as I'm going to take the short cut across the fields. I do hope you will remember what I've said. When this new young woman arrives, try to show yourself a lad of courage. Send her home again or, if you don't like to do that, send her to me." For some inscrutable reason Sidney could not restrain his laughter. "Ah, you think I should want to make love to her," said George angrily. "I know your nasty mind. You and your grandfather had better be careful. You haven't got a friend in the parish." "Except the vicar," Sidney reminded him. "And, if he goes on visiting you, he won't have a friend in the parish either. Do you know what they call you in the village?" "Do you know what they call you?" Sidney retorted joyously. "They call you the Mormon." "And they call you Ananias!" "Well, that beats everything," gasped George, as he dropped clumsily over the stile. "I never tell lies except in the way of business. I always speak the truth in private life."