"You look it, darn you!" growled Bill, on whose mood of grey gloom this human sunbeam was jarring heavily.
"I'm engaged to be married!"
"Congratulations, old egg!" Archie shook his hand cordially. "Dash it, don't you know, as an old married man I like to see you young fellows settling down."
"I don't know how to thank you enough, Archie, old man," said Reggie, fervently.
"Thank me?"
"It was through you that I met her. Don't you remember the girl you sent to me? You wanted me to get her a small part"
He stopped, puzzled. Archie had uttered a sound that was half gasp and half gurgle, but it was swallowed up in the extraordinary noise from the other side of the table. Bill Brewster was leaning forward with bulging eyes and soaring eyebrows.
"Are you engaged to Mabel Winchester?"
"Why, by George!" said Reggie. "Do you know her?"
Archie recovered himself.
"Slightly," he said. "Slightly. Old Bill knows her slightly, as it were. Not very well, don't you know, but—how shall I put it?"
"Slightly," suggested Bill.
"Just the word. Slightly."
"Splendid!" said Reggie van Tuyl. "Why don't you come along to the Ritz and meet her now?"
Bill stammered. Archie came to the rescue again.
"Bill can't come now. He's got a date."
"A date?" said Bill.
"A date," said Archie. "An appointment, don't you know. A—a—in fact, a date."
