"You will when you make your farewell speech there—to announce that you chuck it up. And may I venture to ask who's to be your wife?" Gabriel went on.
"Mrs. Dallow has kindly consented. I think you saw her in Paris."
"Ah, yes: you spoke of her to me. I remember asking you if you were in love with her."
"I wasn't then."
Nash hesitated a moment. "And are you now?"
"Oh dear, yes," said Nick.
"That would be better if it wasn't worse."
"Nothing could be better; it's the best thing that can happen to me."
"Well," said Nash, "you must let me very respectfully approach her. You must let me bring her round."
"Bring her round?"
"Talk her over."
"Over to what?" Nick repeated his companion's words, a little as if it were to gain time, remembering the effect Gabriel Nash had produced upon Julia—an effect which scantily ministered to the idea of another meeting. Julia had had no occasion to allude again to Nick's imperturbable friend; he had passed out of her life at once and forever; but there flickered up a vivid recollection of the contempt he had led her to express, together with a sense of how odd she would think it that her intended should have thrown over two pleasant visits to cultivate such company.
"Over to a proper pride in what you may do—what you may do above all if she will help you."
