“What did she——?” said Andy, through a sympathetic pause.
“Oh, married a butcher! But I never asked her.”
“Should you think if a man were silly enough to propose that he’d better do it by letter or in person?”
He laughed a little scornfully, and put it in a detached manner—so.
Mr. Kirke kicked the gate thoughtfully with the air of a man who meditates on a series of gallantries so long that it takes some time to sort them out.
“Far as my experience goes—mind you, I don’t pose as one of your ladies’ men—but so far as my experience goes, I should say, ‘Kiss first and talk afterwards.’”
Andy moved a shade farther back into the shadow.
Mr. Kirke took his pipe from his mouth and gazed before him into the soft dark. This was what he liked. He had always been so clever and ingenious that since that hour in his boyhood when he had found he could mend the family clock he had continued to feel himself in a position to give a valuable opinion about everything.
“If I had to write, I should make it short and sweet. Very short and very sweet.”
“But supposing a man had an awful lot to say?” pursued Andy, trying still to sound detached and careless, and throwing a horse chestnut at a shrub to give the impression verisimilitude.
“He could say it after they were married,” replied Mr. Kirke with a chuckle. “Plenty of time then, and to spare.”
“She—she might not have him,” said poor Andy, the inmost fear of his heart forcing its way to his lips.
“Trust her!” chuckled Mr. Kirke again. For he held the profound conviction of most bachelors over forty that no woman can resist a man if he really does his best. “Well—good-night. I must be getting home.”
But Andy asked him to come in for a few minutes, and they went together into the brightly-lighted dining-room, where it did really seem incredible that any one should have asked advice on affairs of the heart from Mr. Kirke.
Andy assumed a demeanour more nearly resembling that of the senior curate than he had shown for weeks, and he was very much the Vicar of Gaythorpe as he rang the bell and ordered light refreshments. But Mr. Kirke was impervious to the change of atmosphere, and remarked when Mrs. Jebb closed the door behind her—the little maid was already in bed—“Been rather a fascinating woman in her day, I shouldn’t wonder.”