"You did!" I exclaimed, looking at him in surprise. I could not understand this sudden change of his. A few hours before he had been full of Lil's praises, telling me how charming she could be in conversation, and declaring that he loved her very dearly. It was more than remarkable. "Yes," he said. "You know that I can't bear to beat about the bush, so I resolved to tell her the truth. She'd have to know it some day, and better at once than later on." "Well, all I can say is that you're a confounded brute," I exclaimed plainly. "I know I am," he admitted. "That's the worst of it. I'm too deuced outspoken. Any other chap would have simply left her and ended it by letter. I, however, put the matter to her philosophically." "And how did she take it?" His lips compressed for an instant as his eyes met mine. "Badly," he answered in a low voice. "Tears, protestations of love, and quite a scene. Fortunately we were alone together in the train. I got out with her at the _Elephant and Castle_, and took her home." "Did you see her father?" "No. And don't want to. He's no good--the ugly old sinner." "Why?" I inquired quickly, wondering how much he knew. But he evaded my question, answering-- "I mean he's a sanguinary old idiot." "He idolises Lily." "I know that." Then, after a brief pause he added, "I may appear a brute, a silly fool and all the rest, but I tell you, Frank, I've acted for the best." "I can't see it." "No, I don't suppose you can, old chap," he answered. "But you will entirely agree with my course of action some day ere long." His words puzzled me, for they seemed to contain some hidden meaning. "Are you absolutely certain that you've no further love for Lil?" I inquired. "Absolutely." "And you are likewise equally certain that it is not the personal charms of Mary Blain which have led you to take this step?" "I'm quite certain of it," he answered. "You once loved Mary, remember, but broke it off. Surely we are all of us at liberty to choose our own helpmate in life?" "Of course," I responded. "It was not, however, my fault that we parted. Mary was infatuated with another." "That just bears out my argument," he went on. "She didn't love you, and therefore considered herself perfectly justified in her attachment with your rival. I don't love Lil." "But it seems that you have parted from her in a really cruel and heartless manner. This isn't like you, Dick," I added reproachfully. "Why are you her champion?" he asked, laughing. "Are you in love with her?" "Not at all," I assured him with a smile. "Only I don't like to see a girl badly treated by any friend of mine." "Oh, that's good!" he laughed. "You've treated girls badly in your time, I suppose. Have a peg, old fellow, and let's close the debate." Then he added, in the language of Parliament, where he so often reported the speeches of the Irish ranters, "I move that this House do now adjourn."