"I think she's of the strong-man school, the see-it-through-at-any-price, nail-your-colours-to-the-mast order, the little-midshipmite-business, you know. She's the sort of girl that would never hear the name of that splendid chap Gates without a half-thought prayer. There are some like that," he added casually, as he pocketed his pipe and, selecting a cigarette from the box, proceeded to light it.
"You're not going?" asked Beresford, as Tallis rose and stretched himself.
"Yes, I'm afraid I must toddle, my son."
"Don't go for a minute. You were saying?"
"Merely that you are making a mistake," was the smiling reply. "But as yours is a nature peculiarly adapted to the making of mistakes, there's nothing unusual in that. There are three courses open to you and, of course, you choose the wrong one."
"Three?" interrogated Beresford.
"Marry the girl, clear out, and the tablets. You'll end by clearing out, although you think now it'll be the tablets."
Beresford looked at him for a moment, then laughed.
"Have another whisky-and-soda," he said.
"No, thanks," said Tallis, "I really must be off."
"You don't understand," said Beresford, as they walked towards the door.
"I understand this much, that like all idealists you are obsessed by the thought of material obstacles. Well, good-bye, and the best of luck. If I
